


An Essay on Love: Lines Across My Skin

by Akira_kun



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: A Sparkle of Angst, Agape, Akira loves Plisetsky too much, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, An Essay on Love, Competition, Cute, Drama & Romance, Eros - Freeform, Funny, Greek types of Love, Happy Ending, JJ and Isabel get married because they are lovely too, Love, Love Wins, M/M, Post-Canon, Romantic Soulmates, Slice of Life, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, The triplets!, passing years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-12-14 15:01:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21017693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akira_kun/pseuds/Akira_kun
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky made a friend in Barcelona.And that friendship grew strong and beautifully, facing dark times and going against the odds.And that friendship grew into something else, as strong and even more beautiful.And a soulmate identifying mark appears and hope exists alongside love and daring youth.But life is never simple, and there is no match.And love needs to prove to be stronger than everything else.OrSoulmate Identifying Marks with lots of love and emotions and connections and goddamnit, Yuri, that's not how it works, all bundled in this 35K essay on love /heart emoji/





	1. Philia

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [По коже росчерком — любовь](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25914088) by [fandom Kumys 2020 (fandom_Kumys_2018)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandom_Kumys_2018/pseuds/fandom%20Kumys%202020), [Menada_Vox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Menada_Vox/pseuds/Menada_Vox), [Neitent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neitent/pseuds/Neitent), [silksosoft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silksosoft/pseuds/silksosoft)

> **Akira's notes:**  
Geezus bloody hell! It's been almost 3 years since I wrote this. Goddamnit, what happened to my life?!  
I got madly in love with Yuri on Ice even before its premiere and, as it did, that punk ass bastard rebel kid Yuri Plisetsky stole my heart.  
I was part of elite gymnastics for 15 years of my life and I had a Yuri Plisetsky training next to me every day. He didn't curse as much and his attitude was much better, but the fierceness, the mentality, the goal, the incredible emotional strength that kid had (has!) resonated so much in me that I just could not not love Yuri Plisetsky in all his imperfections.  
And then, Kubo comes along and gives him Otabek and my heart just melts and this story comes along with it.  
This is the most slice of life thing I've ever written - and I don't like slice of life! - but it just felt right with them. It flew from my fingers smooth and simply, and it captured my heart so much I even wrote (am writing) an original inspired in this piece.  
This is a 4 chapter long, 35K, essay on love from this dreamer to the world.
> 
> I commissioned the incredibly talented **@ruiaes** (ruiaes.tumblr.com) for a little cover art for this baby:
> 
> **14Dec2019 edit:** Amazing **@snnlx** completely surprised me last night with a cover for this work. Look at the preciousness: 
> 
> \------------
> 
> I'm fairly certain chapter 1 was beta-ed by my lovely **JustAnAvidReader**. And I'm almost certain chapters 2 and 3 are also. I can't give you my 100% - it has been almost 3 years and I'm an old lady.
> 
> \------------
> 
> See end notes for a comment on the timeline!

**An Essay on Love: Lines across my skin**

**Philia**

_ Philia, one of the six ancient Greek types of love: concerned the deep comradely friendship that developed between brothers in arms who had fought side by side on the battlefield. It was about showing loyalty to your friends, sacrificing for them, as well as sharing your emotions with them.  _

»»-------------¤-------------««

Soul Mate Identifying Marks are commonly called soul-marks.

They appear on a person’s 21st birthday.

They are, on average, 3 tones darker than the person’s original skin tone.

They are, on average, between 5 and 20cm long.

In some extremely rare cases, the marks can be as small as 2cm or reach up to 40cm long.

In the vast majority of cases, the soul-marks of two matched people are the same size. Their location on the soul mates’ bodies, however, tend to be in different places.

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ Barcelona, 13th December 2015 _   
**Grand Prix Final**

A warm sensation spread in his chest, lead by the final accords of Yuri Plisetsky's Free Program routine. The warmness grew stronger and overwhelming when the so young, yet so passionate, skater fell on his knees, face covered by his hands, the tears of so many mixed feelings washing away the cold mask he had been holding oh so tightly. Otabek watched in silent admiration, hands clapping in tandem with everyone at the pavilion, as that was a genuinely breath-taking routine and he couldn't be more proud. That ten-year-old little soldier that had caught his attention years before, had just proved to the world what he was capable of. And that was mesmerizing.

»»-------------¤-------------««

“That was tremendous!” Yuri exclaimed, the biggest smile Otabek had ever seen on his face as both of them exited the ice rink after Yuri’s performance to Welcome to the Madness. The yells and screams of their fans roared loudly at their ears, but Yuri’s shiny and excited eyes made Otabek’s day. It had certainly been worth it to stay up all night preparing that routine, improvisation included. “So freaking cool!! We need to skate together more often!”

“We technically didn’t skate together,” Otabek pointed, not able to stop a pleased smile from spreading so contagious was Yuri’s great mood. “I just stayed there-”

“Yes! Looking all cool and dark and handsome and my damned fans were actually screaming more for you than me!” Yuri pointed, crossing his arms like he was presenting an undebatable argument. “How used are you to taking other people’s pieces of clothing off with your teeth anyway?”

“Yuri!” Otabek tried to choke a laugh. “I don’t go around taking people’s clothes off with my teeth.”

“I had to ask, that was so smooth!” Yuri said, smirk in place as both of them walked to the resting room. “Seemed like you did that every night!”

“Says the guy who shoved a finger in my mouth!”

“But wasn’t that cool?!” Yuri questioned, big smile once again in place, and Otabek wondered if he had to explain a thing or two to that Russian punk, before deciding that no, he didn’t.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Yuri didn’t text much, Otabek learnt. He liked Instagram (mostly full of photos of Potya - Yuri’s cat - selfies, ice skating, street cats and anything he considered awesome) and he liked short voice messages on Telegram. He would call, sometimes, before an afternoon practice, or in the morning, during his flexibility routine at the ballet studio.

Otabek liked Yuri’s calls. He liked the rushed tone, full of complaints about how Yakov was annoying or how Viktor was practicing with him again, followed by a lot more complaints on  _ ‘how infuriating Viktor and Katsudon are and why don’t they just go compete in pairs instead?!’ _ and  _ ‘the insufferable quantity of journalists that stalk Viktor and Katsudon to the rink to try to get an exclusive on their soul-marks match and how bloody maddening it is!’ _

It was strangely calming to listen to Yuri's rants. The same way it was oddly relaxing to hear him talk about those ‘ _ insanely great skates with leopard print _ ' he'd seen, and Yakov wasn't letting him buy them.

Talking with Yuri was a breeze of fresh air on a hot day and Otabek grew too fond of those stolen moments in between practices in a short time frame.

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ 27th January 2016 _   
**European Championship**

Otabek sent Yuri a message wishing him good luck on his short program. Yuri was the great favourite to win the competition, but both Chris and Georgi were eyeing the gold medal with greed - Viktor was not competing. Yuri didn’t reply, though Otabek thought nothing of it. Skaters got too focused on their routines to be paying attention to their phones (with Phichit being the exception, obviously.)

He was at one of his favourite hangout places, in Almaty, with a couple of close friends and an alcohol-free cocktail in his hand (as drinking age in Kazakhstan is 21). He had spent the better part of the previous hour talking with the bartender, practically begging her to allow him to connect the ISU streaming of the Europeans in the bar’s big projector. She ignored him for most of the time until she sighed and agreed to do it in return for a night of DJing services pro bono. Otabek smiled at her and moved to set everything up, streaming the competition for everyone to see.

It was quite late, and the bar wasn’t exactly full, but Otabek had promised that he would be watching Yuri ‘ _ kick those guys asses and win _ ’ so he wasn't going anywhere. He sat at a table with his friends, another alcohol-free drink in his hand and glowing eyes fixed on the streaming in front of him, ready to cheer for his new friend.

The only problem was: Yuri was not there.

Otabek sat straight, widened eyes watching the skaters on the live streaming. The line up had Yuri's name on it, but the commentators were saying they had no idea where the peerless prodigy could be. Otabek felt a cold shiver ran down his spine as he reached for his phone, pressed dial and ran out of the bar before he could think.

_ “I don’t wanna talk about it…” _ A whisper, weak, and hurt. And Otabek’s heart suddenly felt heavy.

“Yuri,” he called, trying his best not to sound too worried. He heard Yuri’s unpaced breathing, rustling noises around him, like he was passing a crowded area and then silence. “Yuri?”

“ _ How’s- How’s the weather in Almaty? _ ” his friend asked, voice trembling. Otabek’s heart clenched tightly with the exposed and bare tone. He closed his eyes, pushing his mind to block the anxious feeling creeping in his chest.

“Terrible. There’s a big snowstorm since yesterday, I can’t even go for a ride,” he forced himself to say, hoping he could make that tone disappear from Yuri’s voice, hoping his words would be enough to make him, at least, feel a little bit better.

»»-------------¤-------------««

There was no apparent reason as for why Yuri didn't compete at the European Championship. Yakov mentioned a sudden flu to the journalists, but Yuri was gone from the world. Yuri’s Instagram was still being updated, but more sparsely and only with photos of Potya. His voice messages were substituted by short texts, and the phone calls became rare. Otabek was worried, too worried and almost scared. 

Something had happened.

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ 1st March 2016 _

**To: Yuri**

01/03/2016, 9:32 [Happy birthday! I’ve sent you two of my new songs. I hope you like them. I’ll call you after practice.]

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ Boston, 29th March 2016 _   
**World Championship**

“You’re not coming…” It wasn’t a question. The disappointed sigh escaped Otabek’s lips before he could try to prevent it. He knew Yuri would not be in Boston, his name wasn’t on the lineup, so of course, he would not be competing. However… Somehow, Otabek hoped he would be there. A very tiny sparkle of hope kept illuminating his heart, making him wish he would see his friend at the World Championship.

_ “No, I’m not.” _ Was the reply, low and barely understandable in between loud voices and traffic noise.  _ “Don’t you dare lose to JJ!” _

“I’ll see what I can do,” he tried to chuckle, but it was forced and sounded terribly fake. He closed his eyes, back leaning against the outside wall of his hotel, hidden away from the crowd of fans gathering at the entrance with flags and excited squeals, hoping for a glimpse of their favourite skater. Otabek’s heart tightened again, like invisible strings sizing its movements. He wanted to say he was worried, he wanted to tell Yuri his absence was making him wonder what happened, if he was ok, if he was healthy. But he didn’t. Yuri wasn’t talking about it, the big taboo of ‘ _ why the fuck isn’t the biggest phenomenon of competitive ice skating since Viktor competing after his smashing victory on Grand Prix Final? _ ’ And the world was left wondering. Otabek was no different. “Cheer for me, will you?”

_ “Just don’t fuck it up!” _ Otabek smiled. At least Yuri’s personality remained the same.

»------------«

_ Boston, 1st April 2016 _ **  
** **World Championship**

“ _ I knew you wouldn’t disappoint. _ ” There was an insanity of people around him, loud cheers and tears of joy and words of congratulations and fans screaming and desperately trying to get his attention. There were journalists and other skaters, scouts, sponsors, and famous coaches around him and yet, Otabek had his phone tightly pressed against his ear, his mind blocking every and anything that was not Yuri’s voice, filled with so much pride it was almost foreign to him.  _ “That was beautiful, Beka.” _

“I wish you had been here,” Otabek muttered, flashes of too many photos being taken, hands touching his arms, his back, his shoulders, people crying his name and loud shouts to congratulate the new World Champion.

_ “Don’t worry, I’ll steal your title away next year.” _ Otabek smiled, open and truthfully. He knew he wouldn’t have won if Yuri was there, competing at the level he did at the Grand Prix Final. And yet, there was nothing more he wanted at that moment.

“You better damn try!”

»»-------------¤-------------««

Rumours exploded.

Yuri hadn’t been seen since his victory at the Grand Prix Final. Yakov and Viktor weren't commenting on it, Mila and Georgi and Katsuki pretended to have no idea what they were being asked about, and the world was making the craziest assumptions. From a severe injury to a sudden desire to pursue another career, to a kidnapping by a crazy, obsessed fan, all theories were circulating.

Yuri was still updating his Instagram with photos of his cat, but aside from that, no one knew a thing about him.

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ "I'm gonna kill Katsudon, and you have to help me hide the body!” _

Otabek yawned, rolled over on his bed to see the ridiculously early hour displayed on the digital clock and sighed before indulging Yuri on his morning rant. “Did he and Viktor got drunk and decided to skate naked again?”

_ “No! It was worse this time!” _ Yuri growled, and Otabek tried his best not to chuckle. A furious Yuri was ridiculously endearing.  _ “He brought Phichit over to train with us for a few weeks!” _

“Phichit is a nice guy,” Otabek pointed, rubbing a sleepy eye. “I don’t see the drama.”

_ “His 21st birthday was last week! He just put his soul-mark on all possible social networks and fans are hunting him down!” _ Yuri hissed, sounding a bit more desperate than he would like to admit.  _ “The rink is flooded with crazy people trying to convince him that they’re his match! I can’t even go there!” _

“Phichit put his mark on the internet?” Otabek asked, confused. No famous person would put their soul-mark on the internet by themselves, it was practically suicide as the fans would turn into monsters, desperately trying to be the match. That was common knowledge, and older people always advised them about it. Their own coaches would give them a massive lecture on  _ why exposing a soul-mark when being famous is a terrible idea _ , and they were all right! If a famous person wanted their mark to be known, they would contact a soul-mark agency and let them deal with all the horrible nightmares that would come in the shape of fake matches, obsessed fans and other weird distresses. "Why?"

_ "Because he's fucking crazy and out of his fucking mind and got super overwhelmed by it and stupid Katsudon decided to play a good friend and invited him over, and now my rink is full of crazy people!" _ Yuri screeched, cursing an array of very creative insults for that early in the morning.

Otabek sighed again, closing his eyes.

“I’m glad you’re still practising…” he muttered in between Yuri’s rant, forcing it to an abrupt stop. “I wasn’t sure you… hadn’t given up on skating.”

There was a long and uncomfortable silence on the other side of the line, but Otabek waited. He knew saying something at that moment would only put unnecessary pressure on Yuri and that was the last thing Otabek wanted. He was worried about that Russian punk more than he would like to and he was honestly scared that one of those nasty rumours about Yuri leaving the ice skating career might be right. But he also wanted nothing more but to respect Yuri's privacy and choices, so he didn't ask. Otabek never asked.

_ “Skating is the most important thing I have in life, Beka…” _ Yuri murmured, voice heavy with a foreign sorrow that made Otabek’s heart ache.  _ "It's been difficult, but I'm not giving up on it, and I will return and claim my title back!" _

Otabek took a deep breath. Somehow, that was painful but so damn reassuring.

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ 31st October 2016 _ _   
_ **Grand Prix Series - Skate Canada**

A parcel arrived at Otabek’s hotel room in Mississauga, Ontario. The Skate Canada competition was finished, and he decided to stay there a couple of days longer to celebrate his birthday and explore the city. The parcel had a simple sports watch and a card.

_ Just a little bit longer. _ __   
_ Happy birthday. _ _   
_ __ Yuri

Otabek’s cursed, a mix of feelings making his chest ache.

Just how damn long was Yuri planning on making him wait?!

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ Marseille, 7th December 2016 _   
**Grand Prix Final**

“I’m not letting JJ win, don’t worry,” Otabek chuckled when he answered his phone on the eve of the Grand Prix Final. He couldn’t avoid the smile on his face when he heard the curse on the other side of the line.

_ “If you already know what I’m gonna say, then I’ll stop calling!” _ Yuri's voice sounded like he was pouting at his phone, and Otabek really couldn't do more than just smile.

It had been a damn year since he had last seen Yuri and it pained him more than he would like to admit. He had thought, in the previous year, when they rode his bike through Barcelona, that he would have Yuri's presence in all major competitions. He thought he would be able to share those incredible moments with someone he admired so much, have pleasant talks while discovering unknown cities, watch breath-taking routines that would steal his gold away and he wouldn't even be mad because who could be mad when Yuri Plisetsky was skating life right in front of their eyes?

"You don't really care if I win or not, you just don't want JJ to win," he joked, smile spreading wide when he heard the offended gasp on the other side of the line. Marseille was cold, and the sea was agitated, the view from the castle was a dark and cloudy one, and Otabek wished, as he had been hoping since Barcelona, that Yuri could be there, complaining about the weather or running away from their crazy fans.

_ “Of course I care that you win!” _ Yuri growled, cursed and clicked his tongue.  _ “Why would I call if not to make sure you know you have to win?” _

“I have to win?”

_ “Of course!” _ Yuri stated, and the sound of classical music was heard in the background.  _ “Viktor decided to stay out this year too to train Katsudon - who’s going all dramatic on his routines again! - and Georgi… well, you know Georgi! So you have to win to defend my title!” _

“I’m defending your title?” Otabek laughed, eyes closed and spread smile crossing his face. “Isn’t that a bit too much pressure?”

_ “Shut up! Win the damn Final! And I’ll go take it back next year!” _ Yuri ordered, and Otabek sighed, staying silent a little too long.  _ “Otabek?” _

“Do you promise?” he asked, his voice sounding low and hoarse, cut by the wind and full of too many repressed emotions.

_ “What?” _ Yuri asked, the noises around him getting louder as if he had re-entered a dance studio.

"If I win this Grand Prix Final, you'll be here next year to take the title back?" His hands were shaking, holding the phone tightly pressed against his ear, nervous heart slamming itself against his ribcage. "I win, and you come back!" Classical music, jumping sounds, Lilia’s voice calling someone over. “Yuri?!”

_ “Yes,” _ he muttered, and there was warmness spreading through Otabek's chest.  _ "You win, and I'll go take my title back in the next big international event. It's a promise." _

“Yuri…”

_ “Now go rock the ice and don’t let JJ win!” _

»------------«

_ Marseille, 8th December 2016 _   
**Grand Prix Final**

**From: Yuri**

08/12/2016, 23:01 [I said “don’t let JJ win”, not “beat my world record”!]

08/12/2016, 23:02 [Asshole! You better smash it on the FS, or I'll literally kick your ass!]

08/12/2016, 23:05 [By the way, why was Seung-Gil running away from Phichit on backstage? I thought he only ran away from women?]

**  
** »------------«

_ Marseille, 10th December 2016 _   
**Grand Prix Final**

Otabek closed the last button of his waistcoat and adjusted his tie, dark eyes staring at his reflection on his hotel room’s mirror. He smiled, a whirl of feelings spreading through his chest: pride, joy, relief, excitement. He passed a hand through his hair, combing it back with his fingers, making a mental note to get a hair tie from Mila or Sara as his hair was starting to be too long and he could tie it up. He grabbed his phone, ignoring the insane amount of missed calls and all the unread messages, and he grabbed the medal that sat quietly on top of his bed, raising it next to his face before taking a selfie.

**To: Yuri**

10/12/2016, 19:43 [Your title and your gold medal are safe with me. You better keep your promise and come get them.]

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ 1st March 2017 _

"It's your birthday, but you have something for me?" Otabek asked, in between chuckles, opening the door to his apartment and turning on the lights. "Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

_ “I shouldn’t even say anything to you! You didn’t tell me about Phichit and Seung-Gil! I had to find out from Katsudon!” _ Yuri exclaimed, and Otabek could clearly picture the teasing smirk on the other's face.  _ “Anyway, yes, I have something for you. The lineup for Helsinki is out, have you checked it?” _

“Well, it’s not like it’s the Grand Prix assignments so why would-”

_ “Stop being a pain and go check it!” _ Otabek shook his head and let his body fall on the sofa, pulling his computer into his lap while still holding the phone to his ear. He entered the competition website and clicked to access the lineup.

"I'm checking it. Are you upset that JJ is still competing and is that why you want me to check the lineup?" Otabek joked, and the chuckle that he got as a reply made his stomach jump. He kept scrolling down and then, he saw it: mixed in between so many other unknown names, almost as if hidden from the world, delicate, simple and clear typography.

**[Russia | Yuri Plisetsky | 17]**

_ “Don’t forget my present,” _ Yuri smirked, and Otabek's heart started to beat unpaced again.

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ Helsinki, 28th March 2017 _   
**World Championship**

Otabek grimaced the moment he stepped out of the hotel's elevator. He never really had a problem with fans. With all honesty, his Amazons were neat and respectful fans that never created any issues for him or other skaters.

Yuri’s Angels, on the other hand, not so much.

They had taken over the hotel's entrance hall, the streets around it and, Otabek was sure, the parking spaces as well. They were loud and obnoxious, and they couldn't see the Russian Delegation colours on a jacket before starting to scream and turn into a massive hurricane of an overly hot mess. 

And, at the current moment, Otabek would rather jump off a bridge than try to pass through that crowd.

**To: Yuri**

28/03/2017, 15:42 [Your Angels took over the entire hotel entrance and surroundings. The Russian delegation better be careful when arriving.]

**From: Yuri**

28/03/2017, 15:43 [We arrived 2 days ago precisely to avoid those crazy ones.]

28/03/2017, 15:45 [I’m at the bar on the 14th floor.]

Otabek hadn't even finished reading the message, and he was already back into the elevator, 14th-floor button pressed, heart pounding loudly in his chest.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before the soft ping that indicated the elevator stop. There was a sceptical part of him, unsure, anxious, divided, that didn't believe Yuri was there. It had been over a year and, more often than not, Otabek had been disappointed that Yuri wasn't there. A delicate voice in his mind reminded him that, unlike this instance, Yuri never said he would be there in the events before. Though his heart kept racing with hope and doubt, desperately wanting to believe and yet, so afraid of disappointment.

He opened his eyes and stepped forward the moment the elevator doors opened, only to stop abruptly to avoid collision with the person standing right in front of him. Otabek noticed a black hood and long, blond hair before a steady hand was on his chest, pushing him back inside and walking in along. He grabbed the person's wrist and tilted his head up, ready to glare at that man and tell him to step aside, when his stomach imploded, and his breath came to a halt, brown eyes widening with realization.

“The bar is getting crowded.” The 9th-floor button was pushed, elevator doors closed and all Otabek could do was stare. Stare at the long hair, at the broader shoulders, at the narrower waist, at the long legs and, most of all, at those blue-green eyes that were looking at him at an equal level. Stare at a defined jawline and a salient Adam's pomme. Stare at someone who he couldn't merely believe to be real. "We can talk in my room, Mila is out for a while."

The Russian Fairy was no more.

"Yuri…" Otabek managed to murmur, astonishment clenching his vocal cords along with his chest and stomach. The elevator stopped on the 9th floor with the soft ping, and the doors opened. Yuri clicked his tongue and turned around, leaving the elevator.

“That’s your reaction? You just stare and go mute?” he questioned, slightly annoyed tone covering a much richer emotion on his voice. “Even JJ had a better reaction than that! For a moment, I thought he was gonna faint!”

"Yuri!" Otabek stepped out of the elevator, and his hand was on Yuri's arm on the next heartbeat. Blue-green eyes were on his, expectant, hesitant, nervous. And there was nothing else Otabek could do but to hug him. To pull him tight against his chest and hug that damned Russian punk.

“Beka!” Yuri exclaimed, a high chuckle tangling around his voice, as strong arms squeezed him gently. Otabek’s heart was erratic, loud, unflagging. There were so many thoughts running through his mind, so many emotions boiling in his veins, but the most important of all was relief.

“You’re not hurt,” Otabek breathed, muffled voice against Yuri’s shoulder, hands clenching on the hoodie’s fabric as an intense feeling of joy warmed his heart and a deep laughter roared in his chest. “You’re not hurt!”

“Why would I-”

“You disappeared for over a year, you idiot! You didn’t tell me why! I thought-” he cut himself and his arms tightened the hug, pulling Yuri closer. He was shaking, breathless, almost dizzy. Yuri was fine. Yuri was perfectly fine.

“Beka…” a whisper against his ear, soft, serene and loving, an arm circulating his waist and long fingers caressing his nape. Yuri Plisetsky was back. Yuri Plisetsky was right there. Yuri Plisetsky was-

“Wait!” Otabek declared, grabbing Yuri’s shoulders and pushing him back at arm's length. “You’re taller than me!”

“Yes!” And there was a massive smile on Yuri’s face, sparkling eyes and too much excitement on his voice.

“How?” Otabek interrogated, widened eyes, mind neglecting to believe what he was seeing.

“I grew 12cm since Barcelona!”

“How?!”

“Late growth spurt!”

"What?!" Otabek almost growled, and Yuri laughed. That loud and real and so damn pure laugh that was so incredibly rare Otabek felt honoured to be able to witness it. Yuri had a breath-taking laugh and an incredibly beautiful smile and that - at least that! - hadn't changed at all.

“It hit me hard right after the Grand Prix Final,” Yuri said, voice going down and expression softening, looking away. “In the month and a half between Barcelona and the Europeans, I grew almost 5cm and gained 7kg. I… lost the notion of my body, the notion of my jumps.” Otabek’s hold on Yuri's shoulder eased, attentive brown eyes watching every expression, assimilating every movement. Yuri bit his lip, shaking his head, shoo-ing the bad memories away. "I couldn't show up at Europeans just to crash my routines. I wouldn't be able to deal with the shame, so… I locked myself in the ballet studio with Lilia to relearn everything all over again."

“Yuri…”

"But I kept growing and growing and- arg!" he hissed, a hand passing through his hair, the other on his waist. He cursed and rolled his eyes before staring directly at Otabek, and a sly smirk crossed his features. "I'm sorry it took me this long. But I'm back now. And I'm taking your title!"

Yuri barely had time to register Otabek’s smile before he was being crushed into another hug, a deep and fulfilling laugh echoing in the corridor.

“As I said before, you better damn try!”

»------------«

_ Helsinki, 1st April 2017 _   
**World Championship**

Otabek knew he had, indeed, lost his World Champion title even before Yuri finished his Free Skating. Otabek wasn’t sure what to expect from a 1,75cm Yuri Plisetsky, but he knew that it would be something tremendous and he wasn’t wrong. He hadn’t lost his elegance and delicacy. His extraordinary technique remained impressive as it had always been. But Yuri was a grown man, not the 15-year-old teen that won the Grand Prix Final, and that… that was impacting his performances in a way Otabek hadn’t expected. He couldn’t take his eyes off Yuri - no one could, to be honest. Yuri was everything he had been before and then some more. He was charming and captivating, seductive, gracious and unstoppable.

The arena exploded in ovation before the music came to an end. Cries, cheers, and tears and an uproar of emotions filling the air, taking over the moment, marking the return of the Russian prodigy.

The routine wasn’t perfect, though, and Otabek knew that would be enough to upset Yuri. It didn’t matter how many people had their hearts stolen by his skating, it didn’t matter by how many points he beat the silver. There were world records to break and perfection to reach, so Yuri wouldn’t be satisfied by his come back.

Otabek, on the other hand, had galaxies in his eyes and a heart-melting smile on his face when he joined Yuri on the first position of the podium, silver medal around his neck, to take the traditional podium photos.

“Stop smiling like that,” Yuri told him with a glance and a side smirk - while trying his best to stay away from JJ, who was proudly standing on his left side with a Bronze medal in hands. “You’re too happy for someone who just lost his World title.”

Otabek’s arm circled his waist and pulled him closer.

“You’re back on the ice rinks,” Otabek whispered, ignoring the cameras and looking at Yuri - who’s smile grew wider before turning his face to look Otabek in the eye. “That’s my gold.”

__________________________________________________________________________________

**To be continued**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Canon timeline acknowledgements:**
> 
> On episode 1, the GPF that Victor wins and Yuuri places 6th is set in Sochi. The real-life GPF in Sochi was the 12-13 season (December 2012).  
The GPF of 13-14 is in Fukuoka (December 2013) - this event is never ever mentioned in the anime.  
The GPF of 14-15 is set in Barcelona (December 2014). So is the GPF of 15-16 (December 2016).  
Now, I just rewatched the anime and my understanding was that a whole season (13-14) passed between Yuuri placing 6th and Viktor showing up in Hasetsu. However, the rest of the anime does not match this assumption (a GDP in Fukuoka is never mentioned). So I’m assuming the show just “erased” the 13-14 season to make them have the GPF in Sochi in the year before the GPF in Barcelona.  
As I wrote this 2 years ago when the anime was airing, I had not made this connection and the following story is based as if the Barcelona GPF of the last episodes is the 2015 one.
> 
> Is this really that important? Probably not - but the ones of you who know me and my writing know I like details and perfectionism is a nasty bad habit of mine :3


	2. Ludus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really really really really really!!!! love that obnoxious punk ass Yuri Plisetsky! That's all I wanted to say. K, thx, bye ;*

**Ludus**

_ Ludus, one of the six ancient Greek types of love: playful love, which referred to the affection between young lovers: the flirting and teasing in the early stages of a relationship. _

»»-------------¤-------------««

Soul-marks are socially treasured and highly appreciated.

Everyone is born with a soul mate. However, not everyone is able to find their match.

There are global websites and professional agencies dedicated to the sole purpose of matching soul-marks.

With the advance of technology, it became unlikely for a person not to find their soul mate.

When a person dies without being matched, their mark is recorded and archived in a global database and still can be searched for in case their soul mate is looking for them.

If a person dies before the age of 21, their mark will become visible post-mortem, and the above procedure is followed.

There’s no age gap limitation in regards to soul mates.

Soul mates are the people who can bring the best out of each other.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Otabek spent the summer training under Yakov. His coach agreed that a couple of months with Russia’s National coach and legend Viktor Nikiforov would be precisely what he needed to make the best out of his routines — and having Yuri and Katsuki as rink-mates was a more-than-great incentive.

With the Olympics haunting the season they were preparing, Otabek gave his best, training the entire summer tirelessly, polishing his powerful routines, and gaining the confidence to fight hard for the Olympic gold. He wondered if he should ask Viktor to choreograph one of his routines, but ended up deciding against it. Viktor's choreographies were World Record level, but they weren't meant for Otabek’s raw and distinctive style.

He did, however, spent most of his time in Russia watching with amusement Yuri running after Viktor, demanding a new Short Program and a new Free Skate from him. Otabek knew Yuri was aiming high for that season and he wouldn't rest until he had everything needed to simply smash it all.

Also entertaining to watch was how much of his time Katsuki would assign to be on the phone with Phichit. After the stunning and sudden revelation that Phichit's soulmate was actually Seung-gil and the dramatic tension of Seung-gil running away to  _ focus on his career only and to stay away from the Instagram monster _ , Phichit was very sad and in desperate need of friends. Even though the number of calls might have been a little too much. (On top of that, the paparazzi and the fans wouldn't just leave any of them alone.)

Yuri took Otabek to the airport when he was to return to Almaty. They were able to avoid the fans - Yuri’s Angels had become more intense, crazy, and resourceful than ever - but there were still photos of both of them showing up on several social media channels.

“I hope to see you during the Grand Prix series,” Yuri said, as they stood in front of the security check. “It would be nice to have at least one of the competitions together.”

“Let’s hope we get assigned the Skate America, it’s in New York this year,” Otabek pointed, smiling. “There are some pretty awesome places to ride a bike there.”

"I bet there are," Yuri chuckled, the comfortable and peaceful atmosphere surrounding them slowly. “I’ll see you soon.”

Otabek nodded before stepping forward, pulling Yuri into a hug. Long blond hair tickled his cheek and,  _ Goddamn, Yuri got taller again! _ , and his heart was unpaced and loud once more, but it would be fine. They would see each other soon enough. They would compete against each other soon enough. It was just a couple of months apart.

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ “The assignments are out!” _ Yuri’s voice echoed excitedly over Otabek’s room when he picked up the phone and set it on speaker mode.  _ “Have you seen them?” _

“I’m about to,” he said, computer in front of him as he lay down on his stomach. “Oh, we both missed Skate America.”

_ “Yes, but we got the NHK together!” _ There was a timbre of happiness in Yuri’s voice that was relaxing and reassuring. Otabek looked at the date and smiled. November 3rd to 5th meant he would be spending his birthday in Japan, preparing for the competition.  _ “And since our other assignments are not for at least 2 weeks, we can go visit Katsudon’s parents and abuse that incredible onsen!” _

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Otabek asked, wondering how good it would be to have two primary competitors showing up at Katsuki's home.

_ “Of course! Axel, Lutz, and Loop are dying to meet you! We must go!” _ Yuri exclaimed, overly excited tone warming Otabek’s cold room and making him laugh.

“Who?”

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ Hasetsu, 31st October 2017 _

Otabek’s family consisted only of his parents and an old grandma, so the idea of a birthday spent with a borrowed family of 12 people was not something he was expecting.

Yuri stormed into his room, it was barely morning, with a gift in his hands and a huge smile that made Otabek's confused and sleepy eyes glow with happiness. There was a loose braid holding Yuri's hair, and Otabek was about to reach forward and pass his fingers through it when three little weights jumped on his stomach, followed by a loud and completely tuneless happy birthday song. Like Axel, Loop, and Lutz hadn't been enough, Makkachin joined them right away, followed by Viktor and Katsuki and Minami - who had qualified for the Grand Prix series and was training with them as well.

They had a big breakfast, and all ran to the ice rink for morning practice. The day was filled with loud laughs and stolen smiles, perfect routines and a family warmness Otabek was honoured to have from those people.

The enthusiasm and euphoria of the party seemed to run out after dinner when everyone was suddenly exhausted from the exciting day. Otabek dressed his yukata and was getting ready to sleep when Yuri stormed - for the second time in that day - in his room and dragged him out.

“Aren’t you tired?” he asked, letting Yuri guide him through the place, barefoot and loose yukata.

“The day can’t be over without soaking in the onsen,” Yuri stated, flipping the curtain of the men side of the onsen and pulling Otabek inside with him. “This is the best part of staying in Hasetsu!”

Otabek stopped next to Yuri, in front of the clothes’ baskets. He didn’t say anything nor did he move while Yuri was humming some random song, tying his hair up in a messy bun. Yuri stopped when he was about to untie his obi, noticing the fact that Otabek wasn’t moving. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, a silent question hanging in between them.

Otabek sighed, scratching the back of his nape and looking away. He could feel the blush crawling under his skin, and he was sure that Yuri would notice it soon. He cursed mentally, those deep blue-green eyes pinning him down, demanding an answer to an unspoken question. Otabek struggled and crossed his arms too.

"It's just that… you know… I…" he tried, and he wanted to punch himself for such lack of eloquence. This was Yuri, and he had no reason whatsoever to be shy or uncertain with Yuri. "It's my birthday."

“I know. And even if I had missed all the festivities that happened around here today, your Amazons are going crazy all over the internet!” Yuri stated, rolling his eyes. “I thought it was impossible to be crazier than the Angels, but seriously, what the fuck is wrong with your fans today?”

“It’s my birthday,” Otabek repeated, chuckling, and Yuri hissed.

“You already said that!” he clicked his tongue, annoyance starting to twist his features. “And I kno-”

“My 21st birthday, Yura,” Otabek smiled, blush tainting his cheeks, but he held his chin high, brown eyes fixed on deep blue-green ones.

“Oh,” Yuri blinked, confusion fading from his eyes and- “Oh!”

“Yeah…  _ oh! _ " Otabek chuckled, nervously raising a hand to mess his hair, but Yuri's fingers were suddenly laced around his. Warm and powerful and so damn delicate… so damn firm and reassuring.

"Have you seen it?" Had Yuri's hand always been that warm? Had he ever been that close? Had he always been that…

“Yeah… it’s… not very conventional,” Otabek said, mouth going dry and he hoped his blush was as faint as possible.

“Have you tried matching it on those websites?”

“No. I don’t like those things, besides…” he hesitated, a rock sinking deep in his stomach. “I’m sure there would be mentions of it if… the match was already out there.”

“Can… can I see?” Yuri asked in the softest tone Otabek had ever heard, widening eyes full of stars, curiosity, and wonder.

Otabek clenched his jaw but nodded. He loosened his obi and pulled the right side of his yukata's collar slightly to the side, only enough to uncover the robust and prominent line of his collarbone.

“It’s pale!” Yuri stated, deep eyes following the frail and continuous line that resembled an arrow, starting right below Otabek's right collarbone. The line was pale, indeed. Not the typical three tones darker, but extremely pale, almost snow white. Yuri had a fascinated smile on his lips, and Otabek couldn't suppress a shiver when a long index finger caressed his skin oh so gently, from the tip of the arrow, following the single line back, under the yukata fabric, dragging it away from Otabek's skin.

“Yur-”

"It goes on your shoulder too?" Yuri's fingers followed the line until it started to twist and turn into a diamond shape and into a larger one and then it spread. Yuri's hand was over his shoulder, widening eyes following all the almost-white lines across Otabek’s olive skin. And his yukata was pulled off his shoulder and arm, and Yuri was turning him around, warm fingers over his skin, following the lines across his shoulder blade and his spine and his ribs, dragging shivers through his skin and spreading the blush over his neck. "Beka!"

"I know…" Otabek muttered, voice weak and hoarse, eyes fixed on the floor as Yuri's fingers traced all the continuous white lines on his back, and hoping his traitorous heart wouldn't be heard for how loud it was beating. "I told you: not very conventional." He forced a laugh, but it sounded fake. Yuri's hands on him were making his blood rush and his head dizzy. "I'm sure it's not what you were expecting, I mean. That mark is mas-"

"Beautiful!" Yuri's voice echoed in his mind, and Otabek's eyes widened, head turning back to look directly at Yuri.

“What?” he questioned, unsure he had heard correctly, brown irises melting with the galaxies he found on Yuri’s eyes.

“Your soul-mark is beautiful, Beka!” And there it was: Yuri’s smile. Pure and real and so full of warmth, completely breath-taking and stunning. Yuri was glowing, blue-green eyes divided between Otabek’s and tracing the lines of his soul-mark. There was a hand on his right elbow, another back on his shoulder, agile fingers drawing the patterns over heated skin. “It’s so beautiful! The most I’ve ever seen!”

“Yura!” Otabek’s right hand moved on instinct, touching Yuri’s waist without really meaning to, securing their proximity without neither’s conscious realization.

“And it’s so you!” Otabek’s breathing was unpaced, his blood rushing through his veins, his mind spinning round and round, expression lost between the insecurity of before and the astonishment of Yuri’s words, of Yuri’s reaction, of Yuri’s warmth spreading through his skin, caressing his heart, making him melt. “It’s exactly like your skating! So strong and expressive and- damn, Beka! It’s gorgeous!”

“You really think so?” he asked, a husky chuckle in his throat, and he didn’t seem to mind the blush anymore.

“Of course!” Yuri stated, sparkling eyes memorizing each twist and sharp angle of the white lines, that contagious smile lightening up on his face. “I’m envious now! I want mine to be like this!”

Otabek swallowed dry, understanding suddenly why they were called butterflies and why they would be flying around like maniacs in one’s stomach. For a second, he stood very still, halted breathing locked in his lungs and then, Yuri gasped, the realization of his words hitting him like a wrecking ball.

"I mean!" he exclaimed, cheeks pencilled in deep rose, shocked eyes flashing too many emotions and Otabek laughed. He laughed loudly before an embarrassed and confused Yuri, laughed from the depths of his soul, true happiness filling his senses and he stepped forward, free hand resting on Yuri's waist as well, as he hid his face on Yuri's neck. "Beka!"

"Thank you," Otabek managed to say, in between breaths, a smile too big for his face spreading wide across his lips. He heard Yuri rambling something, and he was sure the blond was pouting, but it didn't really matter. What mattered was that Yuri threw all his silly insecurities away and totally and wholeheartedly made his night. His soul-mark was pale, instead of the average three tones darker. His soul-mark started on his collarbone and spread through his shoulder, to his arm, and over his shoulder blade, covering part of his ribs, his spine and reaching the other shoulder blade instead of the average 5 to 20cm long. His soul-mark was made of continuous, interconnected lines instead of opaque shapes and spots.

His soul-mark was  _ beautiful _ .

And he couldn’t stop himself from thinking that maybe he wouldn’t mind if it would look even more perfect across Yuri’s skin.

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ Osaka, 4th November 2017 _   
**Grand Prix Series - NHK Trophy**

“As I said before, I thought it was impossible to be crazier than my Angels,” Yuri commented, looking out of the window of Otabek’s hotel room to the sea of people pooling around the hotel building. “Your Amazons simply amaze me!”

“You can have them, if you want,” Otabek sighed, sitting on the bed and taking his medal out of his gym bag, throwing it on the mattress. Silver again. He missed gold for a little over one point this time. “It would be very kind of you to get them off me.”

"You can just take a photo of your soul-mark and publish it on Instagram, and they will leave you alone,” Yuri suggested, walking away from the window and throwing himself onto Otabek’s bed. The gold of his medal shining shyly inside his Russia Team jacket. “Then you let your coach deal with all the fake matches that will show up and the Amazons go back to being civilized.”

"That is the worst idea I've ever heard, and you know why!" Otabek stated, watching as Yuri sprawled on his mattress. "Is that what you're planning on doing?" 

"Yakov and Viktor already forbade me of putting my mark online," he clicked his tongue, feigning annoyance. "I still have more than 3 years to go, and they’re already annoying me about it."

“You know how dangerous and exhausting it is to put your mark online” Otabek pointed and got a soft glare in response. “Look at what happened with Phichit! He barely managed to escape in one piece!”

“Yeah and then I’ll be like Viktor, who spent years with a tape glued to his forearm so no one would try to fake his soul-mark!” Yuri grimaced. “If Katsudon hadn’t got drunk and had that horrendous naked dance-off with Chris, he wouldn’t even know who his soulmate was!”

"But he did, and they found each other," Otabek chuckled before Yuri's disgusted expression.

“You’re talking like them! Don’t do that!” he ordered, turning around and getting comfortable on the bed.

"Your room is two floors up if you're that sleepy." Blond hair was loose, spread across a white pillow. The tall body occupying more than half the bed.

“Mila is there with someone,” Yuri muttered, starting to doze off.

“Why do you still share the room with Mila?”

“She doesn’t spend the night crying over an ex-girlfriend of years ago as Georgi does!” Yuri stated, face pressed against the pillow, voice muffled. “And I refuse to share a room with Viktor or Katsudon! Or Yakov! So Mila it is.”

"So your plan is to take over my bed because Mila has a visitor?" Otabek asked, and he knew he should be prepared for the answer that was coming when he saw the smirk spreading on Yuri's face.

"You don't want to sleep with me?" The tone was sly and daring, and Otabek cursed mentally for letting those silly butterflies run free again.

"At least get under the covers and take off your medal before you strangle yourself during sleep" Otabek sighed, and Yuri laughed, sitting up for a moment to remove his medal from around his neck and take off his jacket. "And don't take a selfie of us sleeping together in the middle of the night and publish it on Instagram just to annoy my fans!"

Yuri laughed. “You’re no fun, Beka!”

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ Nagoya, 10th December 2017 _   
**Grand Prix Final**

"Mila has a visitor today as well?" Otabek asked when he left his hotel room's bathroom and saw Yuri already inside the covers of his bed. It was the third night in a row that Yuri sneaked out of his shared room with Mila, but aside from the two nights before, the atmosphere and mood around them were heavy and dark.

Yuri had been silent since the medal ceremony and the banquet had only made his demeanor worst. Too many people around him, talking to him, telling him how amazing he was, how glad they were that he was back in competition, how much their hearts beat because of his performances. Yuri hated every single one of them, and Otabek knew he couldn't do much more than to drag him out of there as soon as it was possible. 

“Talk to me, Yura…” he pleaded, sitting on the bed.

He waited patiently, knowing so damn well how difficult it was to make Yuri express anything at all. He finished drying his hair with a towel and put a t-shirt on, getting himself under the covers. He lay on his side, dark eyes fixed on the back of Yuri’s neck, and for a brief moment, he cursed the size of that damn queen bed.

Yuri was laying down very still, facing away from him, long hair loose over the pillow. Otabek could see the silhouette moving slightly with breathing movements, but he couldn’t say Yuri looked relaxed. It was quite the opposite actually.

"I hate them all so much," Yuri eventually muttered, not moving. "They come talk to me and congratulate me like they're pleased with the competition! Like it was something worth seeing."

"Of course they do," Otabek said, eyes still patiently fixed on the other man. "You won the Grand Prix Final again, and they're ve-"

“It was horrible!” Yuri exclaimed, turning around and glaring at his friend. “My scores were ridiculous, those routines were hideous an-” Otabek’s hand was on his mouth, delicately, gently, almost desperate.

"I know how hard it is for you to accept these compliments, especially because you have incredibly high expectations of yourself, but…" he sighed, hand sliding to the side of Yuri's face, cupping his jaw, while eyes softened with care. "But you've never seen yourself skate through the eyes of another person. They don't see the flaws you see. For them, you are phenomenal."

"My form is not good yet, and some of my jumps are not landing perfectly like they used to," Yuri hissed, looking away. "I knew I would be like this during Worlds, but I had expected to be in top form for this Final, and yet… fuck!"

“Hey, you won. You got your title and your medal back,” Otabek said, hand sliding to Yuri’s neck. “It’s not easy to get over a growth sprout like yours and look at you: number one of the skating rank in a couple of months.”

“That’s not-”

“I know you’re not happy, and I know you’ll train harder than anyone else until you are satisfied, but in the meanwhile,” he breathed, leaning his forehead against Yuri’s and closing his eyes. “In the meanwhile, let the world love you because, top form on not, you just kicked my ass hard on that rink and you deserve all the attention people are getting you.”

“Damnit,” Yuri cursed, voice trembling as his hand reached out to cover Otabek’s on his neck. “Why can I never argue with you?”

Otabek smiled. “I’m your voice of reason.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ Pyeongchang, 13th February 2018 _   
**Winter Olympics Games**

"Why are we getting measured again?" Yuri pouted, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the staff currently measuring Emil. "Isn't this something the ISU does at the beginning of every bloody season?"

_ Nekola, Emil, 1,85cm  _

"Because this is for Olympic records and not for ISU stats," Otabek answered, stretching his arms up, bored, as JJ walked to the staff team to be measured. "You know they like to have all the details about the athletes."

"They love the details! That way they can write all kinds of articles about it!" Phichit jumped into the conversation, phone in hand -  _ Measurement time! _ \- and a big smile. "And it's more material for the fans to talk about."

_ Leroy, Jean-Jacques, 1,79cm _

“My turn,” Otabek got up and walked to the staff, ignoring the  _ It’s JJ style! _ pose the other was doing for a photo Emil was taking.

"Why do fans want to know how tall we are?" Yuri asked, and Phichit gave him a side glance and a smirk. Yuri grimaced. "I don't wanna know!"

“Oh Yuri, you know the fans! They like those details, it makes it all more realistic!”

_ Altin, Otabek, 1,71cm _

“Makes  _ what _ more realistic?!” Yuri gasped, horrified expression. Phichit smiled innocently.

“It seems I got stuck on the 1,71cm,” Otabek sighed when he sat back next to Yuri, while Phichit joined the staff, blowing a kiss to a very blushed Seung-gil. “I’ve been steadily growing over the past 6 years, but I haven’t gotten taller since last Worlds.”

"If it makes you feel better, I think I reached my peak too - finally!" Yuri exclaimed, stretching his legs forward and making a face before the selfie Phichit was taking while being measured.

_ Chulanont, Phichit, 1,67cm _

“It doesn’t!” Otabek stated, narrowing his eyes at a smirking Yuri. “You were not supposed to get this tall.”

“Are you jealous?” Yuri purred, leaning closer to Otabek and getting a harder glare from him.

_ Lee, Seung-gil, 1,70cm. _

[ **phichit+chu ** Bae is still taller than me** @seung-gillee #measurementTime #Olympics #FigureSkating #Bae]

“Just go get measured and stop being nasty!” Otabek order and Yuri laughed, getting up to get to the staff.

Otabek watched as Yuri stepped on the automatic scale and got himself straight. He looked bored, side glances at the staff, rolling his eyes and then when the machine made the soft ping indicating the end of the measurement, Yuri's face opened the biggest grin Otabek has seen in the last few months.

_ Plisetsky, Yuri, 1,80cm _

“I KNEW IT!” Yuri yelled, turning around and point at JJ, who was looking at him - like everyone else - with surprised eyes. “I’M TALLER THAN YOU!”

“Not possible!” JJ exclaimed with a gasp, hand hitting his chest for dramatic purposes. “That machine is broken! Measure us again!”

The sound of Phichit's camera shutter was heard, and the photo of an outraged JJ, a grinning Yuri, and the perplexed staff was directly updated on Instagram.

[ **phichit+chu** @yuri-plisetsky and @Jjleroy!15 are having a height match off! I’m taking bets! @Yuri+angels10 @JJ_G!rls]

“EAT ASS, JJ!” Yuri yelled, and Otabek sighed, covering his eyes with a hand. Traitorous smile starting to show up.

»------------«

_ Pyeongchang, 15th February 2018 _   
**Winter Olympics Games**

"You just had to go and beat my Short Program record, didn't you?" Otabek asked when he felt Yuri's chin leaning on his shoulder while they were preparing to leave the Olympic ice rink after the first day of competition. "You couldn't be happy with beating only Katsuki's Free Skate tomorrow?"

"That record was mine, to begin with, and I told you," Yuri smirked, raising his left hand with his phone to take a selfie of them. Otabek sighed and looked at the camera. Like there was anything he could do when Yuri wanted to Instagram things. "I won't be happy unless I excel in all my skating. And that includes the Short Program."

"Well, since you're so into it," Otabek said, turning around and staring directly into Yuri's eyes. There was a fire burning deep within his irises, and he saw the sparkle on Yuri's eyes for it. "You better break the Free Skate record tomorrow as well, or I will do the performance of my life and take this Olympic gold from right under your nose!"

"Are you challenging me, Beka?" Yuri questioned, widened eyes raging with excitement, ripped smile flaring their emotions. Otabek smirked back at him, and Yuri's eyes lighted up as he leant forward to touch their foreheads. "Bring it on!"

»------------«

_ Pyeongchang, 16th February 2018 _   
**Winter Olympics Games**

Perfection was something conflictive. Skaters were taught, their entire lives, to train for it, to seek it, to aim for the highest possible and the highest possible is to be perfect. They were told that perfection is the only thing that matters, that perfection is the ultimate goal, the one and only reason for doing what they do, for bending their bodies in impossible positions, for spending more time on the ice rink than at home or at school, to give up on friends, family, and lovers because they have to practice, they have to be  _ perfect _ .

And yet, perfection was never reachable. There’s always a leg that could be higher, a hand that could be softer, an expression that could be better. There’s always something to change, something to improve, something that could be done with higher precision.

Perfection was the dream that everyone desperately seeks, but no one could obtain.

Perfection was the bittersweet force that drove skaters into deep pain to aim for a beauty that would never be reached.

Or so was what Otabek had always thought.

And then, Yuri Plisetsky entered the Olympic ice rink and shred any believes anyone had that perfection couldn’t be reached.

Otabek watched, astonished, from the Kiss&Cry where he just received a final score that would guarantee him a medal, as Yuri took on the ice rink. The arrangement was painfully beautiful by itself but Yuri's skating… no hand could be softer or no leg that could be higher. No jump could be faster or any spin that could be smoother. No expression could be better, no form that could be classier, no intensity that could be heavier.

He had no words to describe what he saw, to be truthful, his mouth was dry, and his throat was shut, stomach imploding, blood rushing, and his heart… his damned traitorous heart leaving him behind before such breath-taking sight.

Perfection. The unreachable goal, the masochistic dream of wonders, the sweet unattainable nirvana. It was right in front of his eyes. On that ice rink. Stealing his heart and his soul. In the form of that obnoxious, damned Russian punk.

_ Fuck. _

The arena exploded with the end of the music. Tears ran down people's faces, hands hurt of clapping so hard, voices wrecked of cheering so loud, sobs, whistles, flags and a shower of plushies and flowers and statements of love and devotion, and pride. So much pride. From the spectators, from the skaters, from the coaches and the judges, from Yavok and Lilia, from Viktor and Katsuki, from Nikolai and, most of all, from Yuri himself. There were tears in his eyes when he finished his routine, there was a breath-taking smile on his face, a so overwhelming aura of happiness, it was almost glowing.

Otabek was silent when he got out of his seat and walked to the small corridor next to the Kiss&Cry, where he stood, watching Yuri being hugged by Yakov and Lilia and Mila and Viktor and Katsuki and Georgi. He watched the entire Russia team squeezing themselves on the bench while hugs and kisses were still being given to Yuri - who was now complaining about it - and they were all anxiously waiting for the final result.

Otabek thought, in a flash, that he didn't need to see the results to actually know that history was about to be made. Yuri had broken the world record of the Short Program on the day before, and there was no way in hell that his Free Skate routine was not reaping away another world record. He heard the announcer's voice asking for Yuri's scores, and he turned away. There was an ache in his chest he couldn't really understand. A clenching throb that wasn't letting him breathe.

World Record, he heard, almost as if he was underwater. The new Free Skate world record, but not just that. Perfection doesn't get only one world record. Perfection means without flaws or defects. Perfection means supreme excellence. Perfection means an unsurpassable degree. Perfection means breaking not one or two, but the three world records in the same competition. Perfection means-

"Beka!" Yuri's voice echoed in his mind right before a hand closed around his arm and he was pulled aside, through the door that led them to empty stairs next to the corridor to the backstage. "You've seen it, right?"

Like there was anything else he could have been doing but watching Yuri prove the world there was, indeed, such a thing as perfection.

A lump in his throat, and his breathing was unpaced when he turned to look at Yuri and then… then he had no words. No words to express himself, no thought to be coherent, no voice to say at least smithereens of what was going on in his mind.

“Beka?” Yuri asked, confusion creeping into his expression, slowly fading his light away, voice losing the excited tone. “Are you ok?”

Otabek wanted to punch himself hard in the face. He cursed, shook his head and decided that _ fuck it _ , Yuri deserved better than a shaky, incoherent mess. So he stepped forward, closer, strong hands coming up to hold Yuri's face in between them, fingers getting lost on long, silky hair, fitly tied in a low ponytail, and deep, full, intense brown eyes fixing on those beautiful blue-green ones.

"You are-" he started, a gasp cutting his voice, turmoil of emotions reflecting on his tone. "Extraordinary!" he declared, and there was a pinch behind his eyes and liquid salt blurring his eyesight, but fucking hell, he wouldn't stop. "That performance! Damnit, Yura! You are magnificent. I can't even-"

He breathed, shaking his head, fingers digging into Yuri’s scalp and nape.

“I always knew you were meant for greatness. I never doubt it! But-” he chuckled, open smile illuminating his expression before wide and star-full blue-green eyes.

But damn!

Yuri was  _ gorgeous _ !

All of him: from his physique to his performance, to the depths of his leopard-print-obsessed soul! Yuri was simply stunning and finally - finally! - with a dizzy head and a harsh voice and trembling legs, Otabek understood. And there was a warmness in his chest, spreading gently, letting him feel the aftermath of the storm that had been wrecking his soul.

_ So that’s what it was…  _

“To have… my heart stolen like this,” Otabek said, hoarse voice tangled with laughter, overwhelmed with emotion, and bright eyes looking deep inside the ones in front of him. He knew there was a blush coming up his neck, he knew the tickling sensation on his skin wouldn’t stop anytime soon, he knew those silly butterflies were only going to fly more and more erratic, but he couldn’t do anything about it. Not when Yuri Plisetsky was looking at him with fireworks in his eyes and his hands were holding Otabek’s elbows, pulling him closer, and his breath was not only his anymore and- “I kinda- want it bac-”

Yuri's mouth was on his, stealing his voice, tasting him, kissing him, devouring him. Flaring up that overpowering feeling consuming his soul. And he kissed back. Hard. Hands pulling them closer, mouth firmly pressed against Yuri's, bodies sliding together in tandem, almost dancing. He felt his bottom lip being bitten and he growled, lowly, irrationally, his burning skin demanding more touch, more attention, more intensity.

Yuri's back hit a wall, and Otabek's body was immediately pressed against him. Wondering mouth kissing its way to Yuri's neck, as powerful hands clenched around his arms and hips rocked against his own and Yuri's moan on his ear, making him bite hard on the pale skin, licking it, kissing it, marking it.

"Seung-gil, have you seen Yuri?" Mila's voice asked right outside the door, on the corridor, and both immediately separated. "The medal ceremony is about to start, and I can't find him."

Seung-gil’s answer was not registered as Otabek and Yuri stared at each other, hands still holding the other close, glassed eyes, blushed cheeks and slightly swollen lips. Otabek breathed out, being the first to shake his head, and he was preparing to say something when he was suddenly spun around and pushed against the wall, Yuri kissing him once more.

There was a tongue in his mouth, and a leg in between his thighs and Yuri bit his lip, sucked his tongue and kissed him again before pushing back only enough to stare directly at Otabek's eyes.

“I’m not giving it back,” unpaced breathing, rough voice, that damn seductive smirk. Otabek blinked.

“What?” he forced, opening his mouth to another, quieter, kiss, tongue sliding so calmly against Yuri’s, humming quietly.

“Your heart,” Yuri whispered, sly smirk spreading over his red kissed lips, sparkling eyes so full of stardust. Otabek almost couldn’t breathe. “I’m not giving it back.”

“Well,” Otabek muttered, warmness and butterflies pooling in his stomach as he leant his forehead against Yuri’s before smiling. “Fuck.”

__________________________________________________________________________________

**To be continued**


	3. Eros

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick reminder that this is rated Mature for a reason :3
> 
> Also, I'm fairly confident I don't need to remind people of this, but this is a fictionary work, Yuri is 18 years old in Milan, and flying fucks are not given if you're coming at me with bullshit neanderthal comments, ok? Ok! :D
> 
> Also, prepare for the heartbreak cuz I'm beautiful and sadistic :3

**Eros**

_ Eros, one of the six ancient Greek types of love: represented the idea of sexual passion and desire. In ancient Greece, Eros was viewed as a dangerous, fiery, and irrational form of love that could take hold of you and possess you. _

»»-------------¤-------------««

Couples that are not soul mates are more common than expected, and they are socially called  _ matchless _ .

A young couple that hasn’t had their marks yet are also considered  _ matchless _ .

A significant majority of people does not see with good eyes dating without a soul-mark match.

A significant percentage of the population prefers to wait for their soulmate before engaging in any type of romantic or sexual activity.

In some more conservative countries, couples are only allowed to marry if their soul-marks match.

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ Pyeongchang, 16th February 2018 _   
**Winter Olympics Games**

Otabek had the notion that the Russian National Anthem was playing loud and clear in the Ice Arena of the 2018 Winter Olympics games, but he was not really listening to it. He was dizzy, unpaced heart racing and Yuri’s taste still lingering in his mouth, making his blood rush and that damned blush crawling on his skin.

The anthem ended and the photos started, countless flashing lights blinding him, voices asking for a smile, for a “ _ kiss the medal _ ”, for a happy pose, for a photo of the three podium skaters. He tried, the best he could, not to look at Yuri, not to distract himself more than he already was, as he stepped into the highest position of the podium, joining Yuri and -  _ who was third place again? _ \- for the typical group photo with flower bouquets and medal-kissing and medal-biting and-

Yuri's hand was on his waist, pulling him close, bumping their shoulders, making that warmness grow and spread on his chest all over again. Otabek smiled for the cameras, hoping that his face was as straight and plain as always, hoping no one could hear his hammering heart or that his damned blush wouldn't be visible. He dared a side glance at Yuri's face, wondering how that damned punk was able to stand so still, to smile like he was perfectly fine, and then, he noticed.

He noticed the soft rose on Yuri’s cheeks, and the trembling of the hand holding the flower bouquet and the rushed breathing, so well disguised in between short laughs and smiles. That was almost relaxing, almost serene, definitely reassuring and comforting. Yuri was as nervous and unsettled as he was and that, somehow, made Otabek happy.

»------------«

“I shouldn’t have said that…”

Otabek opened his eyes, head tilted back, the lights of the city were bright, contrasting against the clear night sky. The ISU banquet was at the Olympic Vila, but they ran away from the confusion of too many people wanting to congratulate them and curious eyes following their every move. They eventually found themselves at the rooftop of the Russian Delegation building, cups of steamy coffee in their hands, the cold forcing them to tighten their scarves and pull their topcoats over classic suits.

“That Mila looked like a poorly baked potato with that dress?” Otabek asked, back leant against the wall, eyes falling from the sky to the man standing in front of him, facing away.

"That too!" Yuri cursed, passing a hand through loose, silky hair and sighing. "In my defence, the dress was really horrible."

“I wonder how marvelled your Angels would be if you said those things to them instead,” Otabek chuckled, sipping his coffee. “It would be interesting to watch.”

“Beka, you’re changing the subject,” Yuri said, simply and not in that cold tone he tended to use when something was annoying him. It was a firm tone, but with a sprinkle of warmness on it. It was Otabek’s turn to sigh, pass a hand through his hair, messing it up, before looking directly to Yuri’s deep blue-green eyes. His heart jumped, more erratic butterflies flapping around in his stomach because - goddamnit! -  _ Yuri was breathtaking! _ Even when he was about to break the heart he had so effortlessly stolen.

"I should be the one apologising, actually," Otabek cleared his throat and decided not to look away. "I should have congratulated you properly instead of-"

“Are you regretting it?” Yuri interrupted, cold tone piercing the night around them, a sudden change in their atmosphere.

“What? No! Of course not!” Otabek stated, stepping away from the wall and closer to Yuri. “Listen… there were a lot of emotions going on in the arena this afternoon. And we both said some things that were, probably, not the best things to say.”

“Do you want to kiss me?” Yuri questioned, narrowed eyes glaring at Otabek, who couldn’t look away.

“This is not about that, Yuri, don’t make this abou-” Otabek tried, but Yuri was stepping forward, reducing the space in between them.

"Do you want to taste me?" The white puffs of breath swirled around them, those damned 9 centimetres Yuri had on him making themselves useful when the Russian glared down at him again. Yuri's voice was low and harsh, and the cup of coffee dropped to the floor, forgotten, when Yuri's hands rose to grab tightly at Otabek's head, long fingers digging hard on his nape.

“Stop getting angry at this and listen to me,” Otabek pleaded, noses almost brushing, the warmth of Yuri’s skin awakening the blush, making his heart race again. “I don’t regret what happened, but we-”

"Tell me you don't want me," Yuri whispered, pushing his body against Otabek's, forcing his back against the wall once more. His breathing was rushed, his mouth was too close, and his eyes were darkened with intensity. "Tell me I'm crazy and this is not it! Tell me you don't want me, Otabek!"

Otabek’s cup of coffee met Yuri’s on the floor, ignored and forgotten. One hand was on Yuri’s small back, sneaked into the topcoat, grabbing the expensive suit jacket, pressing their bodies tight. The other was on Yuri’s jaw, holding him impossibly close, thumb pressing hard against pale lips.

“I want you!” Otabek growled, clenched teeth and glaring, piercing eyes. “I want you so fucking much, you have no idea!” He gasped before Yuri’s tongue on his thumb, licking the pad lasciviously, dilated pupils fixed on him. He shook his head. “And that is scaring the shit out of me, Yura!”

"Why?!" Yuri demanded, and Otabek cursed.

“Because I want you too much!” Otabek declared, hoarse voice filled with emotion. “And I want all of you, not just your body. This is not an itch I want to scratch, this is not some frustration I need to get rid of! But-” he cursed, closing his eyes tight for a second before reopening them to focus on widened blue-green ones. “But you’re three years away from a soul-mark and-”

“And matchless couples never last,” Yuri muttered, looking away, hands falling from Otabek’s face, the cold suddenly becoming so obvious over his skin. “So it’s better not to risk a failure, isn’t that what everyone says?”

“Yura,” Otabek sighed, caressing his cheek delicately. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Yuri stepped back, away from Otabek’s touch, eyes never meeting his again. The cold tainting his voice, consuming his light, freezing his blood. “It might be late for that now.”

Without looking back, Yuri left.

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ 1st March 2018 _

"I really didn't mean to hurt you," Otabek said, sounding like a broken record machine. Yuri looked away from the camera, passing the hand that was not holding his phone through loose hair. Otabek could see a leg sticking up behind him, indicating he was practising flexibility off the ice instead of the regular spins routine he usually did around that time of the day.

_ "We talked about this, Beka! There was a lot of adrenaline going on on that night, I was agitated and hot-headed. We're fine! Stop apologising!" _ Yuri cursed, almost embarrassed with the conversation. Otabek couldn't help a sad smile. They were far from being fine, he knew that perfectly. Yuri was an extraordinarily proud person, and he never took well the feeling of defeat. The two weeks since the Olympics had been rough, full of awkward silences and dry answers and hurt tones. He knew it would not be easy for them to be 100% back to before - maybe even impossible since the cat was out of the box - but at least Yuri was answering his texts and they were talking on a regular basis again. It wasn't perfect, but it was something.  _ “Can we just forget about it and go back to complaining about the fact that JJ just invited me to his wedding?” _

“Oh, you got an invitation too?” Otabek questioned, surprise drawing on his face. “I thought he was inviting me just because I told him I would let him win the next Four Continents if he named his first kid after me.”

_ “You did what!?” _ Yuri screeched and Otabek laughed loudly.

"I'm joking. He said he was going to invite everyone, so it's normal you got an invitation too," Otabek explained, rearranging his position on the floor of the studio he was currently working in. "Hey, about Worlds, are y-"

_ “Yuri, is that Otabek?” _ Mila's voice was heard from afar, and Otabek saw how perfectly Yuri's face turned from bored into a massive grimace. He turned his face up to answer her.

_ “No! It’s Axel!” _

_ “Axel doesn’t sound like a man, Yuri!” _ Mila complaining and, in a second, there was the sound of skates cutting through ice and Mila’s smile sneaking into view from the side.  _ “Hi, Otabek!” _

_ “What are you doing? Get out! It’s my call!” _ Yuri yelled at her, but she was simply smiling and waving at the camera. Otabek waved back.  _ “Don’t encourage her, Otabek!” _

_ “Say, I had my birthday last week!”  _ Mila informed, completely ignoring Yuri's furious rant and taking his phone away, skating to the middle of the rink before Yuri could grab it back. Otabek was chuckling, and loud curses could be heard in the background. " _ I got my soul-mark! Look! _ " She lowered the phone to her belly and pulled her t-shirt up, revealing a small, cloud-shaped mark with what seemed to be a little crown, next to her right hip bone. She was back in the screen view and smiling at him in a second.  _ “Does it match yours?” _

_ “You stupid hag, I told you it doesn’t match his!” _

“I’m sorry, Mila, it does not match mine,” Otabek offered a smile before Mila’s pout. “I’m sure your match will show up soon.”

“ _ Yeah, but it won't be a world-class skater, _ ” Mila puffed, looking away and starting to move again.  _ “Unless it’s Yuri! And if it is, I will kill myself!” _

_ “Who wants to be your match either, you ugly ass!” _

"Maybe it's Minami, he's starting to be good! Almost made it into the podium in the last Four Continents!" Otabek suggested, and the grimace he got from Mila made him wonder if she and Yuri weren't in fact long lost twins.

_ “Gimme back my phone!” _ Yuri growled, showing up on the screen in the next moment, narrowed eyes still glaring at Mila.  _ “She just had to go and show it to you! She could not believe in me when I told her it wasn’t a match!” _

“What can I say? People want me! I might not be the new living legend of ice skating, but I’m still gold*!” Otabek flashed a smile to the camera, only to regret it immediately when he noticed how Yuri’s eyes narrowed and a content smirk was drawn on his lips. “Yur-”

_ "You sure are, Mr Altin," _ Yuri had the audacity to purr, slyly biting his lower lip, making Otabek’s heart race once more and again.  _ “And just in case you’ve forgotten, all gold is meant to be mine.” _

“Goddamnit, Yuri,” Otabek gasped, voice caught in his throat as Yuri’s tongue darted out to lick his lips.

_ "Three years to go, Mr Altin," _ Yuri smiled, open, daring, so full and so proud.  _ “You better start counting!” _

_ Fuck! _

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ Milan, 24th March 2018 _   
**World Championship**

Otabek tried, he really did. He tried his best to act normal, to be like he had always been, to pretend that the weird tension between him and Yuri was not really a thing. He wanted, more than anything, to just arrive in Italy, have his fun, perform his routines, get his medal and go home, without a problem, without drama, without worries. And for a brief moment, on the first day of practices in the World Championship ice rink, he thought they could do it: be like always.

But he couldn't be wronger, for Yuri had his mind set on winning the competition and making him suffer, and Otabek had no weapons to fight him. 

It was all in the details: In the delicate smile Yuri would give him after a conversation, in the way his hand would so gently and apparently casually touch his arm when leaving the rink, in the soft touching of their legs while they were untying the laces of their skates. Yuri was playing a dangerous game, and he was playing it like he did everything in life: to win! Otabek just wasn't sure if he could ever survive through the end of it.

They behaved during the competition, playing games was one thing, screwing up the chances of a medal because of it was a whole new other. So they competed in peace and got their medals without a problem, and heard the National Anthem of Russia, and took all the podium photos. And when Otabek thought that the game was just going to last for the few more hours until the banquet and the next day gala, Yuri decided to level up.

Gorgeous was an understatement when Yuri walked into the banquet room. Hair loose and so slightly messed, the tailored dark grey, three-piece suit and white shirt hugging his defined body like a charm, no tie, two upper buttons opened, and that ridiculously sexy expression that was driving people mad around him. People did not just want to talk to him because he was the undefeatable champion anymore, no. There was lust in their eyes and want in their voices and Yuri - goddamn, obnoxious, punk Yuri! - was marvelling in all that. Even Sara was smiling at him, sparkling eyes like a cat who just got a treat. And Yuri seemed to not mind at all: the attention, the lascivious stares, the not-so-discreet touches.

Otabek finished his third glass of champagne and looked away, focusing his attention on Minami, who was happily telling him and Mila and Georgi about something he had no clue about, though was definitely more interesting than Yuri fucking around.

But there was a hand on his waist and a hot breath on his ear and an  _ I want you _ whispered to his soul that didn’t let him concentrate on anything else. Yuri was gone with the same dexterity that he was just there and Otabek’s chest ached.

Coming up with a tattered excuse, he put his empty glass on a table and left the banquet. He needed to get away from there, away from Yuri before he lost his mind. 

Cursing, he walked out the doors and headed for the elevators, it was good that the banquet was being held at the same hotel most of the delegations were staying, so he could just head to his room and lock himself in it until it was time to go for the gala on the next day. The elevator doors opened and he entered, pressed the 15th-floor button and leant against the far back of the metal box, a fake illusion of safety, of being out of reach. But there was a pale hand preventing the doors from closing and deep blue-green eyes fixed on him when Yuri walked inside the elevator.

Doors closed, Yuri leant against them, head tilting back, exposing the porcelain neck and the deep line of his collarbones, and half-lidded eyes calling, whispering a siren song, inciting Otabek for more. A hand in his pocket, the other messing, even more, the long hair, pulling it aside from his face.

Otabek clenched his teeth, breath halted in his lungs, a lump pressuring his throat and the heated blush crawling on his skin. Just looking at Yuri was driving him mad, having him there, untouched, so silently begging for his clothes to be ripped out of his body. Yuri licked his lower lip slowly, letting it get caught gently in between his teeth, sliding out with a deaf gasp that had Otabek grabbing the handrail behind him like his life depended on it, knuckles turning white.

The ping sounded, and Yuri tilted his body forward only enough to have the doors open behind him and, with a meaningful stare, he walked out of the elevator, on the 15th floor. He didn't look back and he knew he didn't have to because Otabek was following him.

Slowly, like dancing a waltz instead of walking, Yuri passed closed doors, crossed a corridor and another one and, like it was meant to be, stopped in front of Otabek's room. He leant against the door frame and waited, deep eyes analysing Otabek's every move.

Otabek stopped, two steps from him, dark eyes fixed on those pools of blue-green, the air tensed around him, and he was suddenly feeling too hot. Butterflies in a frenzy, heart pounding so hard he believed it would soon bleed, rushed blood and the blush crawling over his neck, creeping his nape, daring to spread to his cheeks oh so slightly.

He could leave. He could simply turn around and leave, go somewhere else, go lock himself in his coach’s room. It was as simple as that!

But… 

"How long are you planning on just standing there?" Yuri's voice was husky, and that damned shiver down Otabek's spine felt a bit too fucking good.

And he was never one to run from a challenge after all.

Swiping the card key over the sensor, the room door opened. He entered, without looking at Yuri and yet knowing so well the vivid spark on blue-green irises. He took off his shoes, his jacket, and pulled the knot of his tie a bit loose. The door closed quietly behind him.

"Mila has another visitor?" he asked, and his voice sounded normal, which was more than he could say for himself. He tried that as the last trick to fade away the tension in between them, the last, weak resource to make them go back to normal.

"No," came the answer, and that voice! Goddamnit, that voice and the things it was doing to Otabek's self-control. He struggled to unbutton the cuffs, feeling the stare on his back, making the hair of his nape raise. " _ You _ have a visitor.”

“We talked about this,” Otabek sighed, turning around and facing the other man. Yuri had taken his jacket off and was, casually, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt as well, rolling the sleeves up his forearms.

"No, we didn't," he said, hands in his pockets as he walked inside the room, stepping into Otabek's personal space without as much as a hesitation. "You said there's no mark on my skin, there are three years left for it, and I let that become a motive," he leant forward, sly smile on his lips. "And then I thought better about it and decided that fuck it! Three years is a damned long time and I'm not waiting."

“This can end up so wrong, Yuri” Otabek warned, shaking his head and looking away. “We’re matchless and we shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves before your mark appears.”

“I’m not waiting three years for the possibility that  _ maybe _ we match and  _ maybe _ I can have you!" Yuri declared, long fingers touching Otabek's chest, and he stepped forward again. "They say matchless fall apart! But they also say that one can't beat Viktor's record and  _ watch me! _ ”

"I don't want to gamble you on a possibility!" Otabek exclaimed, hand grabbing the one on his chest, noses dumping when eyes fixed on each other again. How blatant was his heart? How chaotic was his breathing? How unstable was his mind? "If you were anyone else, I wouldn't give a fuck. Falling apart or not, if it was, it was. If it wasn't, fuck it. But you!" Yuri's lips were soft as always under the pad of his thumb. Otabek swallowed dry, the lump in his throat not going down at all. "You mean the world to me and I don't want to gamble you - us! - on a  _ maybe _ .”

"So, what you want is that we either match and are happy or we don't and I won't ever feel your skin against mine?" Yuri questioned, husky tone pulling the strings of Otabek's heart. There was hope flaming behind blue-green irises and want tainting his breath, need pushing him closer, and Otabek was only human. "You don't want to gamble me on a maybe, but you want to risk never having me at all!"

“Yuri,” he muttered, closing his eyes. “We don-”

"I want you," Yuri breathed against his lips, free hand holding his waist, noses brushing. Otabek cursed. "I want to feel you and I want to taste you and I want to kiss you and lick you and fuck you," he gasped, biting his lip and pushing them closer, hands caught between pressed chests. "I want to sleep with you and to wake up to you, to hug you, to cuddle with you and I want you to fuck me so hard I forget my own name!" Otabek's hand was shaking on his face, and Yuri pressed their foreheads, bumping noses, brushing lips. "I want early mornings and late nights! I want showers and breakfasts and lazy Sundays and long practices in the ballet studio or the ice rink. I want a chance to have you, even if you're not gonna be mine forever. I don't want to wake up in three years and see another mark on my skin and think that I never had you!"

“Goddamit, Yura!” Otabek cursed, both hands tangling themselves into Yuri’s hair, holding his face, strongly closed eyes daring to open, daring to see the flames of need burning in Yuri’s irises. “I don’t want to risk you!”

“You’re not risking me, Beka,” Yuri said, both hands over Otabek’s waist, pushing them together. “You’re claiming me before some damned mark on my skin does,” touching lips, brushing tongues, mixed breaths and fireworks cracking under their skins. “And if it all goes wrong, we found each other once… we can do it all over again.”

Otabek signed before closing his mouth over Yuri's. He did not have the will or want to push any forward, so he just stepped back, letting Yuri do what he did best, and win. There was a pressure in his stomach as Yuri kissed him, and said pressure turned into an implosion when the kiss spread through their necks and buttons started to be open and waistcoats slid over their arms and onto the floor. There were hands touching hard chests and muscular abs and shirts being pulled off trousers. Blood rushed and skins blushed, and the white fabric was pushed off shoulders and on the floor it fell as well.

There was a mattress under them and long hair sprawled over a clear duvet, lips swelling with the hard kisses, red marks painting their skin like canvas. There was pressure on their hips, hard flesh throbbing and trousers being open so delicately it almost felt unreal. There was fitting underwear being pulled down and hot breaths above leaking heads. There were tongues licking pearly liquid and hoarse voices begging for more and more and more.

There were  _ I want you _ and  _ I need you _ and  _ I won’t let go of you!  _ There were loud moans and gasps and desperate pants and names. Their names, being called again and again, hard and oh so quiet and pleading and demanding.

There were hands jerking them off and fingers opening them up, spreading them slowly. There were  _ fuck, I need you now _ , and  _ God, please, fuck me!  _ And there was fucking and biting and hair pulling and scratching and ripping orgasms sending them to the obliterating bliss of lost control.

There were kisses and caresses, aftercare, cleaning tissues and discarded condoms. There were tired bodies and dizzy souls, tangling limbs and loving whispers. There were nuzzling noses and promises of eternity.

And most of all: there was them.

»------------«

_ Milan, 25th March 2018 _   
**World Championship**

Otabek woke up with a curse as sore muscles started to ache. Apparently, being a world-class skater did not prevent sore muscles from happening when having sex-

The pressure in his chest and the maniac butterflies hit him as memories of the night before started to rush through his mind. He opened his eyes, slowly, not trusting all the points of his skin that were informing him of the body currently tangled with his, and the sight of Yuri, deeply asleep next to him, with an arm over his torso and a long leg in between his, only made those butterflies fly more erratically and his heart to jump unpaced.

He was there. It had happened. It had not been another torturous dream, no. Yuri was there, with his hair all over their pillows and parted lips breathing evenly and such expression of serenity contrasting with the deep dark red marks all over hi-

“Fuck!” Otabek muttered, widening eyes before the red and rose paintings spreading through Yuri’s skin. There were bite marks and scratches and fingerprints and- “Yakov is going to kill me!”

“Lilia is going to kill you, not Yakov,” Yuri sounded like he was enjoying Otabek’s panic way too much and that smirk on his face was fated to drive Otabek mad. “You just tainted her favourite prima ballerina, you’re sooo screwed!”

"Yura!" Otabek cursed, as Yuri laughed and tangled their limbs closer together, pressing naked chests and hiding his face into Otabek's neck. His hands held tightly on Otabek's back and muscular arms pushing them against each other. "Yura, are you ok?"

“Yeah, I’m…” he started, rushed breathing halting his voice and then, he was trembling, pulling Otabek as close as he could. “It wasn’t a dream… damn, I was so afraid to wake up and realise it had all been a stupid dream!”

With a clenched heart, Otabek wrapped his arms around Yuri and hugged him tightly. Hand passing through long threads of blond hair, fingers caressing his neck and his nape and lips kissing a defined jaw, a temple and loving words whispered against skin.

“No, it wasn’t,” Otabek murmured against his ear. “Dreams don’t get you this sore.”

“Right?” Yuri exclaimed, pulling back just enough to stare at Otabek’s eyes. “I’ve been training with Lilia for years, for fuck’s sake, and my tights are still sore! Even my ribs!”

“We have a gala tonight,” Otabek reminded, a low chuckle in his throat. “How pissed do you think the ISU committee will be if we don’t show up?”

"We're just the gold and silver medallists, I think they wouldn't mind- Hey!" there was a smirk on Yuri's face and a sly look directly at Otabek, and that was not good news. "I have an idea."

"We're not fucking with medals on," Otabek stated, stoic, and Yuri frowned, twisting around to sit on Otabek's hips, straddling him. Otabek bit his lip, eyes lost in the man in front of him, lean muscles stretching so deliciously under skin kissed red, messy, loose hair caressing his shoulder, half-hard cock leaning against his stomach, long elegant legs contrasting against olive-toned skin. Otabek's hands rested on his waist, feeling him, pushing him, holding him. “Damn, you’re covered in marks…”

Yuri chuckled, leaning forward and suggestively rocking his hips, before biting slowly on Otabek's lower lip. "You're talking like I haven't marked every single piece of skin I got my body on last night." Otabek blinked at him, and Yuri opened his slyest smile, hips rocking back and forward, igniting the heat between them. "You need to look at a mirror, Beka."

“That can wait!”

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ “That’s three months!” _ Yuri yelled over the video call, phone on the floor of the ballet studio as he stretched his legs, and Otabek sighed, smiling.  _ “Three whole, complete, insanely long months!” _

"You can get a calendar and start crossing the days, I won't mind!" Otabek said, adjusting the earphones and pretending to be unaffected by the fact that Yuri was very much freaking out over a minor little detail. "Publish it on Instagram with some date and the Angels will go crazy over it!"

_ “Beka!” _

"It's just three months, Yura," Otabek looked down to his phone, giving Yuri a reassuring smile, before returning his eyes to the street he was walking on. "We spent way more time apart before, we can survive for three months."

_ “Before I didn’t know how your cock tastes like.” _ Otabek coughed loudly and stopped walking, deep blush spreading over his cheeks.  _ "Now I do, and I kinda want to have it more often than in three fucking months!" _

“You seriously need to stop saying those things,” Otabek muttered, not looking at the camera and cursing under his breath. “I don’t mind dirty talk, but in the bedroom, please. Not when I’m in the middle of a bloody street full of people, Yura!”

_ “You’re making me wait three fucking months to get to fuck you again! You’ll suffer with me!” _ Yuri declared, parting his legs and leaning forward.

“You’re gonna be a nightmare to please, aren’t you?” Otabek asked, shaking his head and returning to his walking. “No, no! Don’t answer that!”

_ “You know I’m very easy to please, Beka, you just have to shove your thick cock in m-” _

»»-------------¤-------------««

Otabek was in Russia two weeks later.

»»-------------¤-------------««

“Can you please stop for a minute, this is important!” Otabek asked, glaring at his phone and trying his best to ignore the loose locks of Yuri’s hair caressing his lower back. He cursed, scrolling down his inbox and wondering if he should just erase all those emails from people he knew nothing about.

"Let your coach deal with that, ignore the emails, ignore the Instagram photos claiming to be your match and stop freaking out just because someone got a photo of your soul-mark when we're at the beach." Yuri sounded way too calm and controlled over the fact that Otabek's soul-mark was suddenly public and a real match could show up at any moment. Otabek frowned, dropping his phone and turning his torso slightly to look at the man laying on top of him, drawing a path of kisses down his spine.

Yuri was perfectly calm, and that was unsettling. Otabek imagined his reaction to that event countless times and none, in any circumstance, would be a serene and relaxed Yuri. He himself was too nervous with all those messages, too afraid of what could happen if one of those photos was actually his real match. What if his soul mate was already out there with an identical mark? What would happen to him and Yuri? What would they do? Just break apart and continue to be friends because Otabek's  _ fated person _ had shown up?

“Why are you not freaking out?” Otabek inquired, an elbow on the mattress to hold his torso up, shoulder pulled back to look behind him. Yuri sighed, biting down with some strength on the small of Otabek’s back, licking it right after. “Yura.”

“They don’t match yours, ok?” Yuri said, raising his head to look back at dubious brown eyes and pushing a loose lock of hair behind his ear. He laced his fingers together and leant his chin on his hands, elbows digging into the mattress on both sides of Otabek’s buttocks. “None of them matches yours. I’ve seen them. They’re fake. Can I go back to lick you?”

“Spit it out,” Otabek demanded, getting a very unsatisfied growl from Yuri before the blond was laying down on top of his ass. “The longer you take to tell me how can you be so sure, the longer it will take for you to do whatever the fuck you want to me.”

"Fine!" Yuri hissed, hands sneaking under Otabek's body to hold firm hips firmly as his forehead leant against the dip of Otabek's spine. And Yuri's breathing was hot against his skin, making him shiver, the pressure on his stomach starting to flame once more. "I've checked all of them while you were in the shower. I have a few alerts set up, so every time someone publishes a new photo of a potential matched mark, I will know. And none of them matches yours."

“And how do you know they don’t match mine?” Otabek asked, silently begging for Yuri’s hands to stop tangling around his tights, spreading them open. “It’s a fairly complex mar-”

"Exactly!" Yuri declared, raising his deep and decided eyes, fingers digging into the skin of Otabek's inner thighs. "It's an extremely complex mark, and the fakes are not even good enough to fool anyone."

“How do you-”

"I memorised it, ok?" Yuri cursed, looking away, frowning. Otabek's heart started to jump out of its pace again, and that warmness that only came when Yuri was being Yuri started to slowly spread across his chest.  _ That damned Russian punk. _ “All of the lines and the twists and turns and how they connect an-”

“Yura…”

"What?!" he growled, turning his face to glare at Otabek only to widened his eyes before dilated pupils and rosy cheeks and a slightly rushed breathing, giving him a clear message of need.

“Shut up and fuck me.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ Montreal, 15th September 2018 _

“WHY DO YOU WANT TO DANCE WITH ME, YOU FREAK?!”

“Aren’t they so well behaved?” Isabella asked, letting Otabek held her hand and walking her to the centre of the dance floor before both started to sway at the sound of a delicate waltz. A few meters away, Yuri was being dragged to a dance competition by a not-so-sober JJ.

“Let’s just hope Yuri doesn’t lose his mind and you still have a husband in ten minutes,” Otabek said, smiling before Isabella’s completely relaxed and happy expression.

"There are enough JJ Girls around to make sure Yuri doesn't do anything bad to him, so I'm not worried," Isabella pointed, letting herself be entirely guided by Otabek at the sound of the waltz. "I'm actually surprised you and Yuri came to the wedding. I know JJ is not your most loved person and to come all the way to Canada… it does mean a lot to him, you know?"

"It's been years that we've been competing together. All the pretended hate and the crazy rivalry is just an odd friendship, I think," Otabek chuckled, trying to ignore how Yuri and JJ were glaring at each other while trying to perform a choreography that Otabek was sure he had seen before. In some Beyoncé music video. "Yuri was actually the one telling me to come along."

"JJ was quite happy when he got your confirmations," Isabella confessed, kind eyes watching her husband trying to pull his best dance moves. "His attitude was never very well seen in the skating community, and he always struggled to make friends within the skaters. I know Yuri likes to yell at him a lot and that JJ's relationship with most is not the smoothest one, but… Thank you for coming today. You two showing up made him really happy."

“You have been engaged for years now, we couldn’t possibly miss the wedding of the decade!” Otabek commented, guiding them around the floor on the typical one-two-three tempo.

“You mean Viktor and Yuuri’s wedding is not the most expected one?” Isabella giggled, spreading a smile over pink lips.

“Well, they were a matched couple since the beginning, it was nothing impressive,” Otabek pointed, feeling some static creeping under his skin. “It’s going to be a massive wedding with too many people, but I wouldn’t say it was the most expected one.”

“You are so sweet, Otabek!” Isabella laughed, ignoring the offended yells coming from JJ, who was sitting on the floor showing Yuri how magnificent his frontal split was. “And you want to ask me something, don’t you?”

"It would be too forward of me, and I prefer not to push my luck," Otabek said, looking away slightly and trying not to think of the sudden discomfort in his stomach.

"It's my wedding, I'm not quite sober, and I have a feeling that there's something you desperately want to ask but are holding back," Isabella said, letting the hand that was on Otabek's shoulder slowly slide up to cup his face. "So take advantage of the fact that I'm so incredibly happy that I wouldn't take anything as pushy right now and ask whatever it is that is eating your insides."

“You really have a good eye,” Otabek snorted, shaking his head before looking directly at her again. He took a deep breath, hesitating oh so slightly on his wording. “You and JJ got engaged when you were 19 and, therefore, matchless.” Isabella nodded, patiently waiting for the rest. “What would you have done if you hadn’t match?”

"If this because of Yuri?" Isabella asked quietly, and Otabek cursed the damned blush that was threatening to taint his skin again. He hissed under his breath and bit the inside of his cheek before deciding on what to say.

“Is it that obvious?” he questioned, forced laugh covering the discomfort, not looking away from the smile that opened on Isabella’s face.

“Not exactly,” she answered, giggling. “But since I put my hand on your face, Yuri has been glaring at me in the same way I’ve glared at a lot of JJ Girls over the last few years, so I can tell.”

"He what-" Otabek swayed them around so he could face Yuri and there it was: the incredibly nasty glare that the obnoxious punk reserved for the most hated creatures in the world. Otabek sighed and narrowed his eyes at him, sending the message, and making him click his tongue and turn around, returning his attention to the dance-off. Otabek growled. "I'm sorry about that," he said, and Isabella was laughing, open and so full of joy.

“You two are so adorable!” she exclaimed, hugging Otabek slightly before continuing their dance. “I thought JJ was high maintenance, but how much does Yuri drive you crazy?”

“You have no idea!” Otabek gasped, chuckling and shaking his head.

“How long?” she asked, quietly, and Otabek felt the blush really painting his cheeks. He tried to avoid the traitorous smile, but it came anyway.

“Since Worlds, in Milan,” he confessed, the warm overflooding his chest again.

"That's almost six months! Congratulations!" Isabella whispered, and he looked away, shy. She smiled and giggled before sighing and returning to the original question. "You know, I believe that one of the reasons why a soul-mark shows up so late in a person's life is exactly because your soul mate is not defined since birth."

“What do you mean?” Otabek questioned, curious eyes focusing back on the beautiful bride in front of him.

"I believe soul mates are developed through life, you aren't born with a soul mate, you get one during your lifetime," she explained, looking thoughtful. "Have you noticed that no one gets a soul mate that is a complete stranger? Or someone from across the world that has absolutely nothing in common? Soul mates are always someone that is in your path already: a friend of a friend, a cheerleading of the opposing team, that across the street neighbour with nice plants on their balcony… another skater of the Grand Prix series." She paused, closing her eyes for a moment. "And I also believe that, in those cases, if you really care and love someone, then God will see that and will allow your marks to match."

"So you had faith that you and JJ would match, even though you were two years away from your marks when you got engaged?" Otabek asked, and Isabella nodded, opening her eyes. "But what if you hadn't match? What would you have done then?"

"Otabek, we are blessed to live in a country that would allow us to marry even without a match," she said, the happy expression on her face unshaken. "I refuse to believe that being matchless would change anything between JJ and myself. I would still love him and support him and care for him, and I know he would still feel the same for me. So why wouldn't we get married?"

“What about the other people who would be your matches in that case?” he inquired, heavy pressure on his chest, sinking his heart slowly.

"They would not be the person I'm in love with," Isabella said, and Otabek's heart squeezed a little tighter. "God put JJ in my path for a reason and, even if he wasn't my match, there was still a reason for me to love him. I would not give up on that just because a  _ more fitting person _ had shown up."

“You would fight for him that hard, hm?” Otabek muttered, a conflicted smile showing up on his face. 

“Of course!” She declared, as bright as ever. “Isn’t that what love is all about?”

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ “Explain something to me, Otabek Altin,” _ Yuri demanded, that low hiss and gravelled voice that he always used before losing his temper with something or, on that specific case, someone.  _ “Why, in the bloody fucking hell, is your back - naked! - on the cover of a global soul-marks magazine?!” _

“Sponsoring,” Otabek said, plain like he was talking about the slightly chilly weather that had been creeping around in Almaty in that early October. He, then, proceeded to move his phone arm’s length from his ear because-

_ “WHAT?!” _

"It's an excellent sponsoring opportunity, plus they offered to take care of all the people claiming to be my match so no one will ever be bothered by it again!" Otabek explained, returning his phone to his ear. "I would have done it just for that, even without the money, to be honest."

_ “Your back is naked on the cover of a global magazine!” _ Yuri growled, cursing.  _ “Your tremendously sexy, muscular, and defined back is naked on the cover of a magazine that has an average 7 million issues circulating monthly around the fucking globe! That’s 7 million images of your naked back for anyone to see!” _

Otabek chuckled, not being able to control the damned smile that was spreading so wide on his lips. Damnit, he missed Yuri so bloody much. “Are you jealous, Yura?”

_ “WHY WOULD I B-” _

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ Vancouver, 6th December 2018 _   
**Grand Prix Final**

"Slow down." Otabek's voice was harsh and breathless, hoarse, and so full of need. He bit back a groan when Yuri's teeth scraped his throat, licking and sucking another dark mark on his skin. "Slow down, or we'll get in trouble."

"I don't care, I missed you too much," Yuri declared, his hands pressing Otabek's hips roughly against his, moaning into a kiss too heated for such an early hour in the morning. Otabek pulled his hair, marvelling with the silkiness of the long blond threads he loved so much, biting Yuri's lips with more strength than he should and melting slowly on his lover's taste.

_ Fucking hell _ , Otabek thought, pushing Yuri harder against him, both hidden away in a bathroom stall, sneaking out in between practices. Groans and gasps sounding louder, risking getting easily caught by another skater or a coach.

"We need to slow down," Otabek moaned, kissing Yuri's neck as a hand that was on his hips slid down to grab his hard cock.

“It’s been three months, Beka, I’m not slowing anything down,” Yuri gasped, pushing Otabek’s training pants down. “The fact that we didn’t get any tournament together during this series assignments was a nightmare!”

“We can’t fuck before Free Skate on Saturday,” Otabek breathed against Yuri’s lips, licking the lower one, hips thrusting slightly into Yuri’s hand.

“It’s been three months!” Yuri hissed, glaring at his lover.

“Exactly!” Otabek growled, pressing a hard kiss on Yuri’s parted lips. “Which means we’ll be sore and, even if it’s just a little, sore means our routines won’t be perfect!” He pressed another hard kiss, a hand tangled into Yuri’s hair, the other pushing the blond’s pants down with scratching blunt nails. “And this has been my best season in a while, so I actually have a chance of winning! And I don’t want to lose this Final because I’m sore, nor do I want to win because  _ you’ _ re sore!”

Yuri silenced him with a harsh kiss and a tongue pushing into his mouth, firm grip stroking his cock faster.

“I fucking hate you sometimes!” Yuri growled, biting hard on Otabek’s neck and getting a loud moan in response before dropping to his knees. 

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ Saint Petersburg, 2nd March 2019 _

"YURI PLISETSKY!" Lilia's voice cut through the ballet studio where Otabek, Yuri and Mila - together for a week of intensive ballet training in Russia (or so was the excuse Otabek got to spend more time with his lover) - were warming up for the late morning session.

“Ugh,” Yuri let an ugly curse out with a hiss and Otabek had to cover his mouth with a hand in order not to smile at how affected Yuri was by Lilia - if it had been Yakov yelling his name like that, he would probably have simply ignored the older man.

"Explain this to me!" A phone with what seemed to be a photo of Yuri leaving a coffee shop on the day before was shoved onto Yuri's face, and he stepped back, letting his back collide delicately with Otabek's shoulder.

"You follow the Angels on Instagram?!" Yuri inquired, raising an eyebrow to his ballet instructor before shaking his head, confused. "Wait! You  _ have _ Instagram?!

"Of course, Lilia has Instagram, Yuri!" Mila declared from the other side of the bar, stretching. "But what is that photo about? Looks pretty ordinary to me."

_ And it was _ , Otabek thought, sneaking a better look at it behind Yuri's shoulder. It was a simple photo of him leaving the coffee shop where they had met for a warm drink, celebrating Yuri's birthday on the day before. Yuri's hair was pulled up in a messy bun, he was zipping his jacket, and his expression was relaxed. There was nothing of impressive on that photo and Otabek understood the confusion on Yuri's face before the evident anger boiling in Lilia's eyes.

“Read the description and look closer,” Lilia actually  _ hissed _ at them, and Yuri mumbled a curse before Otabek could lower his eyes to the legend.

And then, he felt his heart skip a beat and a cold shiver running down his spine.

[ **Yuri+angels10:** IS.THAT.A.HICKEY?! @Yuri-plisetsky]

Otabek’s eyes flashed back to the photo immediately and -  _ fuck! _ \- there was a dark mark on the side of Yuri's neck. He felt Yuri's back pressing harder against his shoulder, and he wanted nothing more but to raise his hands and hold his lover's arms, to steady him there, against himself, giving him all the assurance that would be possible on that moment. But Lilia's index finger hooked on Yuri's black turtle neck and pulled it down enough to reveal the dark red and purple stain on his skin.

“You’re supposed to be immaculate! Pristine and untouchable!” Lilia yelled, releasing the turtle neck back to cover Yuri’s skin. “Your image of the perfect purity shouldn’t have been tainted by this! You’re 19 years-old, Yuri Plisetsky, and you’re matchless! What the heck were you thinking?!”

“Lilia, is not that big of a drama,” Yuri mumbled, blush scratching his cheeks. Otabek cursed mentally, letting his hand brush slightly the small of Yuri’s back, in a delicate and subtle movement missed by the others present in the studio.

“It is a big of a drama when your entire public image runs on the purity and the perfection of the dancer that you are!” Lilia declared, cold eyes narrowed and angered. “And you’re staining that image because of what? Some ridiculous matchless attraction and a sorry way of scratching an itch?”

“Lilia!” Mila gasped, stepping away from the bar at the same time Yuri stormed out of the studio, slamming the door behind him. “Yuri!”

Otabek stood there, deep brown eyes pinned by clear lime-green ones, as Mila ran out of the studio after Yuri. The silence was oppressive, freezing the blood in his veins and making his heart ache. Otabek breathed with effort, pained eyes narrowing before the woman in front of him.

"You didn't have to hurt him like that," he said, low voice scratched with sorrow. Lilia's eyes darkened, and Otabek cursed mentally.

"I got married when I was 19 years old." Lilia crossed her arms, slowly, protectively. "I was the most beautiful prima ballerina of the Bolshoi, the one everyone loved and envied and worshipped. I ignored everything and everyone and, since the Russian Law allowed matchless marriages at that time, I married the man I was so madly in love with, even though our soul-marks hadn't appeared yet. We had our love, and that was enough, right?" Her expression hardened, and the coldness in the room spread in the heavy silence. "And then I turned 21 and my mark didn't match his. My image was shattered, my soul was tainted, and my career was on the edge of destruction. One can not be the most beautiful, most loved and worshipped prima ballerina with a broken heart."

“Lilia,” Otabek breathed, the pain in her voice making him ache.

“That nasty punk is the closest thing I have to a son, Otabek Altin,” Lilia exclaimed, head high and tears well held behind thick lashes, and Otabek’s chest was crying with sudden fear because, just like that,  _ she knew _ . “Even if I have to hurt him with words, I will not allow you to break his heart!”

“I would never break his heart!” Otabek declared, truthful to his soul, clenched fists, rushed breathing and hurt pounding on his chest. “Lilia, I would never do anything that could hurt him!”

“You are a very honourable man, Otabek,” Lilia said, anguish darkening her voice and making Otabek’s soul bleed. “But when your entire being is pulling you to the one your mark matches with, your honour will not save Yuri.”

»------------«

Yuri screamed. Back to his small apartment, he screamed and yelled and threw things around and screamed some more. His cat, Potya, hissed and hid somewhere in the kitchen, running away from the hurricane of anger and hate that Yuri was storming there. He cursed and growled and shattered a glass against the nearest wall. And then he fell on the floor, curled into himself and cried.

Otabek embraced him. Holding him tightly, wanting more than anything to be able to take the pain away. He kissed blond hair and murmured love to Yuri’s ears, and hoped his skin, so tightly pressed against Yuri’s, could warm the frozen pain away from the younger’s chest.

That was nothing more but all of the doubts and fears that once haunted Otabek’s mind crossbreeding into a monstrous reality. One thing was having strangers and distant acquaintances positioning themselves against matchless couples. Another completely whole new one was to have Lilia yelling at him about impurity and destruction. 

Otabek wanted to comfort him, tell him everything would be ok, that Yuri was not stained, that he wasn’t anything less than he ever was. He wanted to tell Yuri that marks don’t mean shit and that they would prove Lilia wrong.

Instead, he told Yuri about how much he was loved by Lilia and how much he meant to her. He said Lilia was terrified of the possibility of happening to him what had happened to her and that she was only trying to protect him.

Instead, he swore to never break his heart, to never leave on his own accord, to never care for another as he did for Yuri and to keep Yuri’s porcelain skin as pristine as ever.

And when Yuri chuckled against his neck, hugged him tightly, and made a sassy comment about how his skin was not pristine because he had stretch marks on his thighs, Otabek smiled.

Slowly, he had Yuri back.

»»-------------¤-------------««

There were kisses. Hard kisses, soft kisses, long and desperate, quick and sweet.

There were training camps in Russia and long summer vacations in Kazakhstan, short trips around Europe and the onsens in Japan.

There were magazine covers and overly excited fans and  _ Goddamnit, Phichit, don’t put that on Instagram! _

There were World Records being broken, gold medals around Yuri’s neck and the Russia National Anthem echoing warm on the ice rinks.

There were loud moans, bite marks, scratches and demanding fucks, hot cum on Otabek’s mouth and a thick cock down Yuri’s throat.

There were cuddly mornings and movie nights, Potya curled on their laps, and Makkachin running along during morning jogs.

There were rumours, about them, about other skaters, about that pretty girl who stole a kiss from Yuri and about the supermodel who wouldn’t stop calling Otabek.

There were birthday parties and ISU banquets, secret pole dancing classes with Chris and the most waited Viktuuri wedding. 

There was a kid with JJ’s face and Isabella’s eyes, an ice skating show with hamster hats, and the Junior High entrance ceremony of Axel, Loop and Lutz.

There were days that passed by, followed by weeks and many, many months.

And like it was a mere heartbeat, there was Yuri’s 21st birthday knocking loudly on the front door.

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ Kyoto, 28th February 2021 _

“The plan was for you to meet me in Shanghai, to watch me win the Four Continents, not for you to run away to Japan without a word,” Otabek sighed when Yuri opened the door of the rented traditional house he was hiding in. Yuri grimaced and turned around, allowing Otabek to take off his shoes and follow him inside. “Lilia and Yakov are freaking out that you just disappeared, at least let me tell them that you are ok?”

"Do whatever you want, just don't tell anyone where I am," Yuri hissed, pulling the loose yukata over his naked shoulder before laying down on the tatami floor of the tiny room. There was a kotatsu with a tea set in one of the corners.

“Where’s the futon?” Otabek asked and got a blank stare from Yuri. “Last time we were together in a tatami room without a futon, my back got a not so nice friction burn, in case you don’t remember.”

“In the closet of the next room,” Yuri answered, ignoring the mention of their last vacation in Hasetsu.

Without saying a word, Otabek walked to the other room and returned with a futon right after. He laid it down next to Yuri, took off his jacket and the warm sweater underneath it and sat on the puffy material. He grabbed a cup and poured some tea, sipping it while brown eyes scanned all the tiny details of Yuri’s body.

“Talk to me,” he breathed, waiting in silence for whatever explosion that was about to come. He finished his tea, slightly surprised that said explosion did not come, and put the cup back on the kotatsu. Then, he stretched his arms, tangling them around Yuri’s legs and pulling him closer, forcing his body to lay on top of the futon.

Yuri groaned, twisting around, but not pushing away. He let Otabek hug him from behind and nuzzle his nape, kiss the exposed skin of his right shoulder blade in a feather-like touch. 

“It’s just too much pressure,” Yuri finally muttered, fingers lacing with Otabek’s, pulling him closer. “It’s been crazy since the beginning of the year. The Angels are even more pushy and stalkerish than normal, journalists and paparazzi everywhere, Viktor and Yakov just can’t shut up about it, always saying something they consider words of wisdom and… and now one of my sponsors even wanted to do a life TV special for the damn thing!”

“Nothing can be just normal in your life, can it?” Otabek chuckled against Yuri’s neck, getting a soft elbow against his stomach for it. “You’re fine now, ok? There’s no crazy fans, no Angels, no paparazzi or Yakov and Viktor. It’s just me here.”

Yuri sat up, letting Otabek’s arm remain laced around his waist as he sighed loudly and covered his face with both hands, passing them through his long and slightly messed hair. Otabek turned only enough to look at Yuri’s face, hand tracing gentle circles on Yuri’s stomach.

“I’m not ready for this,” Yuri confessed in a thread of voice, low and filled with doubt, not looking at the man laying down around him. Otabek pulled him closer. “I wasn’t expecting so much pressure, so many people talking about it and questioning me and making ridiculous comments on this!”

"Yuri," Otabek murmured, feeling Yuri turn around in his arms and leaning both hands on each side of Otabek's head, deep, full, and scared blue-green eyes looking inside his own, searching, begging, hoping as the younger hovered above him.

“What if it- what if it doesn’t match yours?” he whispered, tone heavy with dread, fear, and almost despair, as long strands of hair brushed Otabek’s face and Yuri’s eyes silently begged for reassurance. “What if we’re not meant to be and my mark won’t be identical? What if we’ve been deluding ourselves and have absolutely no future and-”

“Yura, stop,” Otabek said, hands touching Yuri’s arms, sliding to his shoulders, caressing his naked collarbones before tangling themselves into long golden locks and held delicately at Yuri’s face. There was a thumb brushing Yuri’s lips and a melting smile on Otabek’s face.  _ How could that man be so damn beautiful, even when about to break apart? _

Otabek sighed, feeling his chest oddly light and his blood calm, steady as the beating drum of his heart, as the serenity of his mind and the warmth spreading through his body. His eyes traced Yuri's face, from the wide and scared irises to the perfectly clear skin of Yuri's high cheeks, the dark rings of worry and fear under his eyes, the dry lips trembling oh so slightly. Otabek pulled him down with the same delicacy that he was watching him, kissing his forehead and brushing lips against his high cheeks. Yuri body was tightly pressed against him, pale hands on his chest, fingers twisting on Otabek's black shirt.

"I have one thing to say about the possibility of your soul-mark not matching mine, and I want you to listen to it carefully, ok?" He asked, in an almost plea, sweetest loving tone embracing his voice and pacing his breathing. Yuri nodded, attentive eyes fixed on Otabek's, vulnerable and scared, hoping, wishing, daring to dream. Otabek smiled, that quiet and warm smile he got used to having on his mouth every time Yuri was around. Fingers buried in Yuri's hair, long strands caressing Otabek's face and neck, and his thumb kept drawing delicate circles on Yuri's cheek. "I love you."

"Beka!" Yuri's eyes widened, and Otabek could feel the erratic heartbeat against his own chest.

"I figured I was in love with you on that day in Pyeongchang, and I've only loved you more and more ever since," he confessed, hands pulling Yuri's face closer, eyes clear of any shadow, any doubts, fixed into the blue-green ones above his. "I don't need marks to tell me how I feel, and what I feel for you, Yuri…" he smiled, brushing his thumb against Yuri's cheek, melting eyes and loving tone. "What I feel for you is deep and pure and will not change because of some skin mark."

“Even if it doesn’t match and there are other people claiming it?” Yuri hissed, trembling voice hoarse with emotion, blurred eyes holding back thick tears.

“I’m in love with you,” Otabek declared in a whisper, leaning their foreheads, brushing their noses. “And my love for you is not defined by the lines across my skin. And I can only hope… that yours doesn’t either.”

Yuri cursed, as a salted drop fell on Otabek's face and Yuri's lips closed against his. He muttered incoherencies in-between emotional kisses and tight touches and hard presses of skin on skin. There was warmth spreading through their bodies and demanding hands shedding layers of clothing. Promises of love and moans and red pencilling their skins, and naked, exhausted bodies falling deeply asleep in the loving arms of each other, blissfully unaware of the nightmare the next morning was bringing.

»------------«

_ Kyoto, 1st March 2021 _

Otabek woke up feeling cold and lost. He sat abruptly on the futon, looking around the dim room with an unpaced heart and a bitter taste on his tongue. Yuri was standing still next to the window, loose hair contrasting with the dark fabric of the yukata that dared to expose his pale shoulder. He was staring outside, face barely illuminated with the first weak rays of light, hands closed around a teacup, heavy and cold silence floating painfully around him.

“Yura?” Otabek murmured, a sting in his chest when deep red eyes gave him a frozen stare. Yuri had been crying. And it had been hard enough to taint his eyes and rash his cheeks. Otabek felt nauseous, but swallowed dry and shook his head, getting up and walking to the other man. “Everything I said last night still stands. I’m not backing out on any of it.”

Yuri's eyes went back to the dawn outside as his head leant against the window frame. "You should," he said, gravelled voice echoing with hurt. "As I should have listened to you. Why didn't I listen to you?"

“Let me see,” Otabek asked, hard tone trying to keep the pain from spreading, consuming the weak warmth of his chest. Yuri snorted.

"There's nothing to see," he said, cold and dull, devoid of emotion and so incredibly painful.

"Yuri…" Otabek's hand touched his arm, sweet and comforting, as there was nothing more he wanted at that moment than to hug Yuri firmly, pushing him to his own warmth, clear the cold and the pain away. "Please."

"There is nothing to see!" Yuri yelled, turning around, eyes mad and glaring, but without the courage to slap Otabek's hand away as tears threatened to come once again. "I looked for hours, I waited and waited, and I made sure to check all of the damn hidden pieces of skin, and there is  _ nothing to see _ !”

And as tears scratched down Yuri’s face, Otabek realised that he didn’t know it was possible to hear so clearly the sound of a breaking heart. 

“I have no soul-mark.”

__________________________________________________________________________________

**To be continued**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * “I’m still gold” - Otabek’s surname, Altin, means gold in Kazakh.
> 
> Incoherent reviews and whale noises are welcome :D


	4. Pragma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was searching for a music that could be worth of the immensity that I wanted Yuri’s FS in the 2022 Winter Olympics to be, I found this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mXttp8_xSHQ
> 
> And, funnily enough, I think it perfectly matches this whole story.

**Pragma**

_ Pragma, one of the six ancient Greek types of love: the mature love. This was the deep understanding that developed between long-married couples. Pragma was about making compromises to help the relationship work over time, and showing patience and tolerance. _

»»-------------¤-------------««

Soul-marks cannot be faked.

Soul-marks cannot be burnt, cut, or tattooed over.

Soul-marks cannot be removed by laser or by surgery.

Soul-marks don’t bleed, tan or flake.

The simplest way to prove a fake mark is to try to pierce its surface with a needle: if it bleeds, it’s fake.

Soul-marks don’t, under any circumstances, change their original appearance.

Soul-marks exist for life.

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ Kyoto, 1st March 2021 _

Otabek hugged Yuri as strongly as he could. He secured him in his arms while shaking hands kept caressing his lover's back and trembling lips murmured words of comfort against Yuri's hair. There were tears on Otabek's brown eyes, and his heart hurt so much he wasn't sure it was still beating at all.

He held Yuri’s face in between his hands and asked about  _ not having a mark _ . Yuri yelled some more, still in between tears, and yanked the yukata out of his body, standing entirely naked in front of his lover. And there was nothing on his skin that hadn't been there before: the stretch marks on Yuri's thighs, a mole on the heel of his right foot, another on his left bicep, and two more on the left pectoral, three fingers away from his nipple, there was a thin scar on his left knee and another on his right shin, and two scratches from Potya on his right forearm. Aside from that, he was as pale and pristine as ever. There was no mark on Yuri's body. Not even a tiny one.

Otabek wanted to scream.

He had been ready to see another mark on his lover's body. Of course, it wasn't what he wanted, and he had honestly believed with all his might that a copy of his mark would paint itself beautifully on Yuri's skin. He wasn't a fool to not be ready for the worst-case scenario. He just wasn't prepared for the worst-case scenario to be… illogical.

"I need to go," Yuri told him, as he packed his things. Otabek tried to convince him to stay, to talk things through, but truth to be said, he was as confused and as lost as Yuri was. So, without putting up a fight, with a promise of love and a desperate kiss, Otabek let Yuri go and return to Russia. Alone.

»»-------------¤-------------««

He spent hours on the phone with his contact on the global soul-mark magazine that was sponsoring him. Hours in between the ice rink and the ballet studio and his home. No, there was no record of someone without a soul-mark, everyone had one. No, soul-marks always appeared on the 21st birthday. No, there was no particular rule, no hidden cases, no exception.

Otabek really wanted to scream.

Yuri told him he checked a couple of local doctors, which suggested that the mark might have been in odd places, like his scalp or the inside of his ear or even his navel. But it wasn't. And for a full month, Yuri disappeared from the public eye again.

Their calls continued, quick and stoic and oh so devoid of emotion as they had been before, but they continued. Otabek had no idea where they stood, but… at least Yuri wasn’t silent to him. At least he was still there.

Barely, but still there.

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ Moscow, 3rd April 2021 _   
**World Championship**

The entire arena was in tears before the final accords of Yuri Plisetsky’s brand new Free Skate program. Like bringing the house down, on the previous day, with his Short Program hadn’t been enough, he had to go and perform the most emotionally wrecking routine Otabek had ever seen in life. And, in his particular case, he wasn’t sure if he was crying because of the painfully gorgeous routine or because of how much pain Yuri’s soul had been through to be able to skate with that degree of perfection to such a sorrowful program.

Maybe Lilia wasn’t as right as he thought: Yuri didn’t need any saving as he let the darkness drown him and, with that, he adapted and did what he always did the best: win.

If only Otabek could have done the same.

"Why the fuck didn't you Free Skate?" was the first thing Yuri said directly to him during the whole competition. Otabek sighed, closed the locker where he had kept his things during the day, and faced the younger skater. No doubt Yuri had run there as soon as the medal ceremony was over as he only seemed to have had enough time to take off his skates before storming into that supposedly empty locker room.

“Congratulations on your 5th world champion title,” Otabek forced a smile, ignoring the rage in Yuri’s tone. “You just matched Viktor’s record, I’m very happy for yo-”

“Quit the crap, why didn’t you skate?!” Yuri hissed, slamming the door shut behind him and stepping closer to Otabek. “Are you hurt?”

"You've seen my Short Program yesterday," Otabek pointed, looking away. "Skating today, in those conditions, would have been reckless and I can't get hurt when we have an Olympic season about to start."

“What does that even mean, Otabek?!” Yuri interrogated, mad eyes glaring at the man in front of him. Otabek cursed, messed up his hair with a trembling hand and turned to look at Yuri directly.

"It means that I'm honestly happy that you're skating to your full potential," he said, rasping voice and pained words. "I'm happy for you for getting your 5th consecutive world title, even when you're in this situation. And I admire the hell out of you for actually doing all of this when I can not even think about skating without breaking apart."

Yuri had a frown on his face, and Otabek couldn't help but think that, goddamnit, even angry that ridiculous man was beautiful.

"Thinking about skating comes naturally with you as well and… I can't help but feel that what happened in Kyoto opened a deep breach between us," Otabek confessed, his voice losing volume and consistency. Yuri cursed. "You're not talking to me like before, and you're not even looking decently at me, and-"

“How am I supposed to do that?!” Yuri hissed, turning away. “How am I supposed to keep acting like nothing happened when I’m not your match?”

“And why does that have to matter?” Otabek questioned, covering his face with a hand. “I told you I love you! I don’t care about a match, I care about you and-”

"I'M NOT YOUR SOUL MATE!" Yuri declared, raising his voice and punching the locker next to Otabek. There was a struggle in his tone and tears hurting his eyes. And Otabek was aching. So much and so deeply and all he wanted was for Yuri to shut up and kiss him, but… Yuri was not ok. None of them was. "I'm not… your bloody soul mate!"

"Yura…" Otabek breathed, shaking hands coming up to hold Yuri's face in between caring fingers. Yuri bit his lip sharply, cursing once more before the torturous tears scratching down his face.

"I hadn't- want anything else as much as… as much I wanted to be your fucking soul ma-" Otabek's arms around him were firm and warm, and Yuri gasped with the terrible emotional wreck that was whirling inside of him. "I just needed- that fucking mark to show up and… how fucking hard was it?!"

“Then ignore it… please,” Otabek pleaded, feeling Yuri’s tears starting to soak the t-shirt over his shoulder and hugging him tightly. “Just ignore it and- fuck! Just stay with me!”

“I can’t…” barely a whisper.

“Yuri!”

“I can’t!” Yuri declared, shaking his head and pushing back to look at Otabek. “I can’t do this! I can’t just pretend that your fated person isn’t out there and that said person won’t show up eventually and take you away!”

"But I don't love them!" Otabek stated, hands closing forcefully around Yuri's arms, desperate tone echoing in between them. "I don't want them…" he cursed, shaking his head again. "I love you. I want you. Not a stranger."

“Your soul mate is hardly a-”

“I DON’T CARE! I WANT YOU!” Otabek cried, swallowing dry and refusing to accept the defeated expression on Yuri’s face as he, slowly, stepped back. “Yura, no! Don’t do this! No!”

“Matchless couples don’t last,” he muttered, pulling his arms from Otabek’s touch and stepping back again. There were hard tears in Otabek’s eyes and painful ones in Yuri’s. “I can’t do this only to have you being stolen from me later on…”

“That won’t happen!”

“Only it will,” he sobbed, biting his lip. “Everyone says that the attraction towards your soul mate is insane and… I don’t doubt your love, Beka. But… there’s a reason why matchless couples never last and I…”

“And you’re not taking chances…” Otabek finished the sentence. Yuri nodded. And it was Otabek’s turn to hit the locker next to him, cursing. “I never really thought… you would ever break up with me.”

"Funny." Yuri's laugh was shallow and fake and tortuous, as a lean hand cleaned the tears from his face. His red eyes never meeting Otabek's. "I never thought I would ever have to."

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ “I’m so sorry, Otabek,” _ Isabella's voice was sweet and comforting, and Otabek sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back on his sofa.  _ “If there’s anything I can do…” _

"Thank you," he muttered, trying his best to avoid the sorrowful tone from being noticed. "I don't think there's anything anyone can do, honestly. Yuri is scared, and I can't blame him for that." He paused, opening his eyes to a flat and white ceiling above him. "It's hard to make him trust me fully when there's no match around, and every single person keeps telling him how excruciating impossible it is to avoid a soul mate."

_ “People like to be that dramatic,” _ Isabella pointed, humming like she was pondering on the situation.  _ "Well… I was terrified before, to be honest. When JJ's mark showed up, and we still had a couple of months before mine… I was terrified that someone would match him and take him away from me." _

“Even though you had both decided on going on with your wedding even if you wouldn’t match?” Otabek questioned, almost casually, suppressing the nausea that had been fighting him all morning.

_ “It… it was different. And I think that that might be what Yuri is feeling right now.” _ Her voice has calming, serene, and delicate, and Otabek wondered if she knew how easy it was to simply be comfortable just by listening to her speak.  _ "Staying together when our marks don't match would have been a mutual decision and a mutual risk. At any moment, my match or JJ's match could show up, and we would have to deal with it, but it was a conscious decision. However, in the months when JJ had his mark, but I didn't have mine yet… I was terrified of someone else matching him because… It was like I was the only one that had something to lose, you know?" _

"Yuri and I spent three years in that situation, and he was fine with it," Otabek stated, clenching his jaw and cursing. "I don't understand why would he-"

_ “Because he always believed he would match you,” _ Isabella sighed, quietly, and Otabek cursed again.  _ "Yuri is very strong-minded, and he decided that he was going to be your match. Therefore, he had nothing to be afraid of. But now that he not only doesn't match you, but he doesn't even have a mark - a soul mate! - I… I can only imagine how horrible this is for him." _

“If he would only listen to me, this could have been solved so easily!” Otabek hissed, a burning sensation tickling behind his eyes. “If he would just… Goddamnit!”

_ "Otabek, put yourself in his shoes: The person you're madly in love with has a soul-mark that is still to be matched. You know you are not that match, and you know that that match will eventually appear," _ Isabella said.  _ “And can you ignore it and go on with your relationship when you’re aware that one day said match will show up and, when it does, the only thing you can possibly do is hope?” _

“Isabella…”

_ “It is! There is nothing else Yuri will be able to do if your match shows up! He can only hope you’ll be able to resist the insane pull and say no to your fated soul mate!” _ She stated, and Otabek was sure she was about to cry.  _ “And, in a mutual mismatch situation, the one left behind can just say fuck it and look for their own soul mate but Yuri? Yuri can’t do that, can he?” _

"I- I still find it hard to believe that fate decided that someone as amazing and b- breathtaking as Yuri Plisetsky would have no soul mate," Otabek sobbed, cursing once more. "And even if he does not have a soul mate, there's a huge fucking line of people that would kill to be with him! I… I want nothing more but to be with him! So fuck fate and fuck soul mates! And… fuck!"

_ “Hey, Otabek?” _ Teary, but serene, calm and delicate.

“I’m sorry, Isabella. I shouldn’t be saying all this to you, I’m just-”

_ “Why don’t you come to Canada for a while?” _ She invited, smile in her voice clear as a blue sky on a sunny day.  _ "You need a break, and JJ needs a DJ to go on a national tour with his band for about a month." _

“What?” Otabek questioned, confused. Isabella giggled.

_ “You’d be too busy in between ice skate training, band rehearsals, concerts and avoiding JJ, to be able to think about Yuri at all!” _ She stated, a happy tone hiding the almost imperceptible hiccup.  _ “And when things go dark and you do, indeed, think of Yuri… My shoulder will be here for you.” _

“Isabella,” he sighed, relieved heart beating in pace. “Forgive me, but I have to say this: JJ does not deserve you!”

She laughed. Loud and open and truthfully.

_ “I know! I’ve been told!” _

»»-------------¤-------------««

There was a sudden and loud noise disturbing the silence of the room. Otabek groaned and tried to ignore it. He was too sleepy, and still too drunk from the concert followed by a party on the night before to even try to figure what exactly was making noise in the middle of the night. There was a low whine coming from the warm and comfortable weight pressed against his shoulder, and he could feel some odd movement happening a little bit to his right, all clearly created by the noise that was, curiously, sounding more and more like a ringtone. His ringtone, to be precise.

"Oh-oh, phone, phone, phone," he heard, a quiet, whispering voice somewhere to his right, followed by a loud noise of someone falling on the floor. The whine on his shoulder complained again, sliding an arm around his. There was a ruckus still happening somewhere on the floor in front of him. Otabek tried hard to ignore it all again. "Phone, phone, phone!"

“No, don’t answer it!” The whine on his shoulder ordered in a louder, pained tone, head shaking slowly and sliding to fit against Otabek’s chest. “Get back here! You were warm!”

“No, no, no,” the erratic voice matched the sounds of a body tumbling around in the, what Otabek believed to be, dark living room. The ringtone was insistent and very unwelcomed. “Light, light!”

"No! Don't turn on th- AH!" The whine cried loudly, making Otabek's head pound and the face on his shoulder got buried in his neck. He cursed, covering his eyes with his free arm. What the fuck was happening?

“Phone, phone, pho- Found it!” There was a too overly excited exclamation of joy, the sound of someone jumping to their feet followed by the most ridiculous thing Otabek has ever heard as a greeting for a phone call. “ _ Bonjour, mon petit croissant! _ ”

“Oh my god, JJ!” The whine on his neck, Isabella, exclaimed. “That’s not your phone!”

“Not my mother, please let it not be my mother,” Otabek prayed, shaking his head, knowing he had no physical strength, or will, to get up to take his cellphone from JJ’s hand. “Anyone but my mother!”

"Ah! Yuri-chan!" JJ exclaimed, the drunk happiness too evident in his voice as Otabek's stomach imploded and his heart skipped a beat.  _ Well… fuck! _ “Otabek’s phone? Oh yes! Yes, it is!”

“JJ, get back here and give the phone to Otabek!” Isabella ordered, being completely ignored by her husband. Otabek made an effort to remove his arm from his eyes so he could take a look at the ridiculous smile JJ had on his face while on the phone with Yuri.

“Yes, Otabek is here!” JJ turned around and grinned at Otabek, giving him a thumbs up. “Doing what? Sleeping with my wife!”

“JJ!”

"And with me! Yes! We were all sleeping together! It's cosy!"

“Stop talking!” Isabella cried out, raising her head from Otabek’s neck to glare at her husband at the same time Otabek snorted and started to laugh. “Oh god, you went crazy too!”

“Can you imagine Yuri’s face?!” Otabek asked, looking at Isabella’s horrified expression, his laugh turning into a low and guttural chuckle. “JJ just told him we’re sleeping together!”

"You mean sex?" JJ questioned, looking up thoughtfully. "Yes, we do that too! But only after marriage!"

“JJ, seriously, stop talking!” Isabella growled and tried to get up from the sofa. Otabek cursed, head spinning round and round, as he felt terribly lost between fearing the outcome of that conversation or simply let it happen and fuck it.

"Well, that is very true, Yuri-chan!" JJ stated, showing his trademark grin again to the ceiling. "Then I just have to marry him too! Hey, Otabek?"

"I'm not marrying you!" Otabek hissed, eyes admiring Isabella's strength to actually get up from the sofa and walk to her drunk husband at the same time JJ gasped and hit his free hand hard against his chest.

“WHY?!”

“Because, you silly drunkard,” Isabella said, reaching out to grab JJ’s arm. “Otabek can’t marry Yuri if he marries you.”

“Oh my god, you’re right!” JJ gasped again, his free hand holding Isabella’s tightly. Otabek was about to start screaming. “Yuri-chan, I’m sorry! But don’t worry! I’m not going to marry your husband!”

"JJ, stop talking!" Otabek growled, and JJ actually jumped and spun around to stare at him, allowing room for Isabella to take the cellphone from her husband's hand.

“I’m sorry, dear,” Isabella said, pushing JJ past the sofa and giving the cellphone to its rightful owner. “We’re going inside, but… you can just call me if you need, ok?”

“I know,” Otabek breathed, watching the drunk couple stumble upon their feet on their way to the bedroom. “Thank you.”

He stared at the cellphone on his hand, wondering if talking with Yuri would actually be a good idea. He was drunk, tired, and his head was hurting more and more by the second. On top of that, the reason he was in Canada was, precisely, to be too busy and tired to think about Yuri, let alone talk to him. And sure, JJ had said some stupid things over the phone, but hanging up on that moment couldn’t make it all worse, could it?

However, his heart was a traitor, and his stomach jumped with the idea of being able to hear Yuri's voice. So, feeling weak, silly and defeated, Otabek pushed the cellphone against his ear and, sighing, closed his eyes.

“I haven’t had sex with any of them,” he said, voice low and dragging. “We had a party, got drunk and crashed on the sofa when we returned. That’s it.”

_ “What the hell are you doing in Canada?” _ Yuri asked, hissing, and Otabek was too drunk to try to hear anything else in between the lines.

“Touring with JJ’s band and preparing for the next season,” he said, truthfully, hearing a growl from the other side. “It’s Olympic season, in case you’ve forgotten.”

_ "Exactly! It's Olympic season, and you're playing around with JJ in Canada instead of focusing on your routines?" _ Yuri spat, like the idea of doing something else aside from preparing the next season was repulsive.  _ “JJ does not stand a chance in the Olympics anymore, but you do! What the fuck are you doing, Otabek?” _

“I needed a distraction,” he muttered, trying to block the curse coming in Yuri’s voice.

_ "You're a world-class skater and one of the very few who actually stands a chance of winning the Olympics and you need a distraction?" _ Yuri roared, and there was the sound of something breaking.  _ “What the hell is wrong with you?” _

“Well, you know, Yura,” he sighed, voice falling to a murmur. His heart was so tight and so weak he wasn’t even sure it was still beating at all. “I’m only human. And humans sometimes break apart and need time and distractions to heal.”

_ “Otabek!” _

“I told you before, I admire you so much for being able to put it all past you and just be as tremendously perfect as you always are,” he confessed, shaking his head and clenching his teeth. It hurt. It hurt like hell. “But… the person I believed would spend the rest of my life with me doesn’t want me anymore and- and I’m not as strong as you are, Yura.”

He hung up before he could hear anything else and cursed. His heart was bleeding, and there was such a heavy pressure on his chest, he couldn't even breathe properly. Of course, Yuri would be worrying about his career, about his skating, about the Olympics. Yuri was meant for competition, he was meant for the ice, and he couldn't understand that, sometimes, the ice is not the most important.

His eyes pinched before tears distorted his vision and the pressure on his chest was suddenly overwhelming. He wanted to scream and to punch something until all those consuming feelings disappeared.

And he was about to get up and storm off - didn’t matter where, just out, away! - when long arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him into a safe port. He cursed again before letting Isabella hug him tightly and, without resistance, he hugged her back, burying his face on the shoulder she promised to be there for him.

»»-------------¤-------------««

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay longer?” Isabella asked, arms still tightly wrapped around Otabek’s neck. “You’re more than welcome, even if JJ’s band tour is over.”

“I know, and thank you,” Otabek said, a soft smile on his lips as he hugged the woman back. “But it’s time to go home and focus on the next season.”

"Will you be ok?" she questioned, worried and uncertain if she should just let go that easy. Otabek pulled back enough to give her a reassuring smile. "I know you'll be ok, but… really?"

"Really," he nodded, holding her hands on his. "I did my thinking, and I did my healing. I'm ready for battle now."

"You mean the Olympic battle or…?" Isabella gave him a sly smile, and Otabek chuckled, squeezing her hands slightly. "A different kind of battle?"

"Both!" Otabek stated, his voice more confident than it has been in a long time. "Yuri might be the new living legend of ice skating, but I'm still Otabek Altin, and I am going to take him down." He paused, letting a smirk draw itself on his face. "Now if it will be on the ice or in bed, that's a different story, but I will certainly do my best for both."

“You go get him, tiger!” Isabella laughed, hugging him again and ignoring the people at the airport that were looking at them. “I don’t know what made you change your mind, but I’m glad!”

“Three years is a long time, you know?” Otabek sighed, shaking his head. “And I figured that, as much as he can focus on his skating, his feelings are still there and, if he was able to seduce me three years ago when we were just friends… I think I can do a much better job now.”

“I’m so happy you’re not giving up,” Isabella murmured, voice failing with the honest and pure smile spreading on her lips. “You two are so damn perfect together.”

“Are you going to turn into a fangirl on me?” Otabek raised an eyebrow with the question and got a massive smile as a reply. “You already have JJ to fangirl about!”

"Yes, for his skating! I'll totally open an OtaYuri Fanclub in the name of love!" she exclaimed and laughed, getting Otabek to join her while shaking his head. "I'm cheering for the two of you, ok? Go get your lover, Beka!"

“Thank you, Isa,” he said, kissing her forehead before one last hug.

“I hope to see you in one of the Grand Prix assignments!” She declared as Otabek walked inside the airport security check area.

“You’re welcome to visit Kazakhstan before that too!” He replied back, waving and walking away with a convinced and pleased expression on his face.

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ Chicago, 28th October 2021 _ _   
_ **Grand Prix Series - Skate America **

Otabek had always known that making Yuri Plisetsky jealous was not a very hard task. In the three years of their relationship, silly jealousy was almost a constant. Obviously, that said jealousy was always coming from Yuri's overly reactive nature and always - always! - without a real reason. Yuri would get jealous, explode, yell, get his breath taken away by a hard kiss, and return to normal, jealousy and apparent reason long forgotten.

With this in mind, Otabek knew it wouldn't be too hard to make Yuri lose a bit of his temper. A smile to his fans here, a closer greeting to another skater there, a tighter hug with a friend, and Yuri would be glaring at his back through all competition. What Otabek wasn't expecting was to have JJ at his side - sent by Isabella - to chat like they were old friends and to make him laugh with all the ridiculous shit that came out of that big mouth of his, and to strip him off his practice shirt to take half-naked, muscular selfies for Instagram.

And maybe, just maybe, Yuri walking in on JJ pulling his own underwear down while a desperate Otabek tried his best to prevent him from doing so, landing both of them in a very naked and compromising position that had Yuri's eyes turn into glaciers and the aura of the locker room darker than pitch black, wasn't the best idea after all.

( _ “I’ve never seen your soul-mark before.” “It’s in my buttcheek, let me show you!” “What? No!” _ )

The problem was that a mad Yuri Plisetsky was a dangerous one, and though Otabek wanted Yuri’s attention, he didn’t want his anger.

So when, in the night before the competition, Otabek found Yuri alone at their hotel’s lounge bar, he didn’t go flirt with the bartender like he had intended in the first place. He sat down next to his former lover, ordered a fruit smoothie and, hesitantly, placed his hand over Yuri’s.

“I fucking hate you sometimes!” Yuri hissed, tilting his head to the side to allow his hair to hide his eyes. He didn’t move his hand.

Otabek sighed, wanting nothing more but to kiss the hurt away from Yuri, making him understand that they could be right, that they  _ were _ right already! That he just wanted Yuri back, by his side, to stay there like he had been, so damn warm and comfortable, for the best three years of his life. He cursed mentally and, squeezing Yuri's hand tightly, remained in silence.

»------------«

_ Chicago, 31st October 2021 _ _   
_ **Grand Prix Series - Skate America **

"Are you happy now?" Yuri asked in a quiet tone that made Otabek shiver. No, he wasn't happy. He was far from happy, to be honest. That competition had been a horror show of crashes and falls, and Otabek wanted nothing more but to erase the last couple of days from his mind. "You've been so desperate to see how affected I am about this… situation, so I hope you're satisfied now that you see that I am, indeed, affected."

“I never said you weren’t,” Otabek murmured, the gold medal on his hand felt foreign and wrong. “I said I admired you for not letting it interfere with your skating.”

"And now it does!" Yuri hissed, mad, letting the anger take over his voice. "I crashed those programs! Do you know when was the last time I crashed a program?!"

“In your junior years?” Otabek asked because there was nothing else he could say.

Yuri was enraged, and he had reasons to be. He entered the ice rink unfocused, with his mind somewhere else and Otabek knew a significant part of it was thanks to him. Yuri dealt with their breakup like a master, but jealousy… real, meaningful jealousy… was a whole new concept for him and a couple of days were far from enough to allow him to adapt. Otabek had no doubts that when they meet again - in the Grand Prix Finale - his silly games with JJ wouldn't make Yuri waver as he had had time to process and adapt. But for that competition, with a couple of days only and being taken by surprise, Yuri's soul had been overwhelmed, and he had no time to react. So he crashed and fell. And Otabek couldn't feel worse.

“It was really stupid of me, wasn’t it?” Yuri cursed, passing a hand through loose and messy hair. “Assuming that you would play it cool and wait for your soul mate to show up and all? I really didn’t see it coming!”

"I told you I don't give a fuck about my soul mate, why would I just sit down like a good puppy and wait?" Otabek questioned, shaking his head as he stood up and stared directly into Yuri's blue-green eyes. "I care about you and you only. I want you and you only. And if you're not with me, then I don't give a fuck about anyone else."

“Otabek!”

"But I'm not going to play nice and wait for some soul mate I don't care about" he declared, a steady hand pressing delicately against Yuri's chest, feeling the hard beat of the younger's heart under his palm. "Until you want me back, until you realise that I'm not going anywhere, and that we're better together… I'm fair game."

Yuri looked away, frowning, as if he desperately wanted to step back, away from Otabek's touch, but his pride wouldn't let him. His jaw clenched, and his irises mirrored a whirl of emotions that had Otabek crying internally. He loved that ridiculous Russian punk so damn much… 

“I want you back and then what?” Yuri asked, still not looking directly at Otabek. “We play happy couple until you leave me for your soul mate and then, I’m fucked.”

“Yuri, it’s not-”

“I don’t have a plan B, Otabek! I don’t have a safety net! I build my life with you, you leave, and I’m completely alone!” Yuri exclaimed, one of his hands coming up to grab Otabek’s wrist. “You have me. And when your soul mate shows up, you’ll have them. I have nothing. I have you until I don’t have you anymore and then… I have  _ nothing _ .”

“You know I wouldn’t leave you like that!” Otabek muttered, tilting his head to look into Yuri’s eyes. “Is this how little you think of me?”

"I told you before, I don't doubt your love," he said, low and quiet. "But I'll doubt your will when the real love of your life stands in front of you, and you have to say no to them."

“The real love of my life is standing right here,” Otabek declared, stepping closer into Yuri’s personal space. “He just doesn’t seem to want to be the love of my life.”

Yuri cursed, shook his head and then, chuckled. It was a sad sound, forced and fake, coming from his mouth and blurring the shine from his eyes. His grip on Otabek's wrist tightened for a moment before Yuri stepped forward and, delicately, placed a kiss on Otabek's lips. Soft, like a butterfly touch, and colder than any other before.

"Happy birthday, Beka," he muttered, tears about to fall, before he turned around and left.

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ Paris, 11th December 2021 _ _   
_ **Grand Prix Final**

Otabek had no doubt Yuri’s routines would be flawless. After his crash that landed him a silver medal on Skate America, there was no way in hell that the Ice King Yuri Plisetsky had become would be anything less than perfect for the Grand Prix Final. And he was: perfect in everything he did, ripping new World Records, proving the world that he may have fallen once, but he was far from being defeated.

What Otabek didn't expect was the short hair and the winter in his heart. The once long, blond and beautiful locks were sharply cut short, shorter than Otabek had ever seen them, leaving Yuri with a royal and charming aura that was driving all his fans mad and making Otabek's heart beat loud and unpaced. He wanted to run his hands through it, feel the shorter hair at Yuri's nape, dishevelling the silky threads and pulling that longer fringe away from the eyes he loved so much. Gorgeous was undoubtedly an understatement.

But the cold winter that came with it braced Yuri's heart and left Otabek feeling lost. Yuri had never been one for smiles in public, so it wasn't the lack of it that bothered Otabek. No, it was the lack of everything else. There were no explosions, no curses, no frowning, no eye rolls, or mean comments. There were no complains, no side smirks, no expression or emotion that wasn't precisely calculated for his performances. A perfect Ice King inside and outside the rinks. And Otabek ached.

»------------«

“I don’t know what to do!” Otabek confessed, hoarse voice scratched by sorrow, as Yuri walked past him to reach his hotel room door. The floor was empty and quiet, silence echoing around them in the serenity of the night. “I don’t know what else to say, Yura. I feel like I’ve been saying everything that comes to my mind and yet, it never gets to you.”

Yuri stopped at his door, his back turned to Otabek, key card in hand, but said nothing.

"I wake up thinking of you, and I go to sleep thinking of you. I'm certain I dream of you as well, and this makes me sound like an obsessed lunatic, and I'm about to lose my mind," he said, hands closing into tight fists, the loud beat of his heart echoing in his ears. "I'll do anything you want. Anything at all, just name it!" he paused and breathed out slowly, trying to tame the erratic drum of his heart. "I was supposed to be able to win you back. I thought it couldn't be that difficult, and here I am, lost and scared of not having you at all."

It was hard to keep his head up and his will unmoved when his soul was shattering in silent agony.

"I'll move to Russia, I'll make Saint Petersburg my home rink as well," he suggested, struggling to keep his voice steady and his heart controlled, and Yuri felt so cold. So, so cold. "Or I could-  _ We _ could move to somewhere else and-”

“Otabek…” came the frozen warning, which he willingly ignored.

"And…" he cursed, fisted a hand on his own hair and rose desperate eyes to stare at Yuri's back. Anything. Anything at all! "I'll marry you. There are countries where we could get married without a soul-mark match and I will if you have me."

“You’re absolutely out of your mind,” Yuri said in the same frozen tone, without turning around, without showing the slightest hint of wavering in his cold demeanour.

“I am” he confessed, letting a broken chuckle choke on his throat. “I don’t know what the fuck you did to me, but look at me! Prideless and on my knees, begging for love. How ridiculo-”

Yuri was on him, pushing him hard against the narrow corridor wall and smashing their lips together in a feral and demanding kiss. Otabek’s hands were immediately on Yuri’s hair, blunt nails running over the scalp, fingers tangling in the short locks, pulling him harder against himself, mouth opening and taking all the intensity and the hate and the despair Yuri threw at him. They kissed roughly and so hard, their lips would be bruised after, bodies tightly pressed together, desperate hands looking for more, wanting more, needing more. And Yuri punched the wall next to their heads and cursed before having his lower lip bitten harshly and another breathtaking kiss stolen.

“Stop hurting yourself like this!” Yuri ordered, in between hard and desperate tears, anger floating in his irises when their eyes met. “Just get over me and go live your life! Stop suffering because of me, goddamnit!”

“Come back to me and I will,” Otabek panted, breathless, pulling Yuri’s face closer, nuzzling his left cheek as he opened his legs wider to make Yuri’s body fit perfectly against his. “I’m not giving up on you, so just come back to me.”

“You’re breaking me apart,” Yuri whispered against Otabek’s lips and closed his eyes. “Just let me go.”

“No,” Otabek gasped, the warm of Yuri’s tears heating his skin, making him hate himself and the world and that stupid, stupid soul-mark of his! “I’m not giving you up. As long as you still have feelings for me, even if they’re almost nothing, I’m not letting you go.”

“You’re just making all this worse for both of us!” Yuri cursed, punching the wall again.

“Maybe,” Otabek agreed, tired and desperate and needy. “But as you said in Milan: we found each other once. We will do it again.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

Yuri left without a word, and without a word he remained.

So Otabek decided to fill the silence with love.

He wrote to Yuri every day. He wrote of his day, of his feelings, of song lyrics that reminded him of his lover. He wrote quotes of poems from a classic book he was reading and quotes of movies that were Yuri's favourites.

He left voice messages with  _ good morning, love _ and  _ have a good practice _ and _ take care of yourself _ and  _ goodnight, Yura, I love you _ .

He sent pictures of stray cats and leopard-print clothes and silly selfies that made him blush harder than he should.

He whispered  _ I miss you _ to silent phone calls and prayed to whoever was listening to it all to not be in vain.

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ Beijing, 15th February 2022 _ _   
_ **Winter Olympic Games**

The silence followed him into the Winter Olympics. Yuri would not go close to him, or talk to him, or even look at him and Otabek caught himself aching once more. His will waved, like a calm ocean before the storm, and he wondered, for the very first time, if he was actually doing the right thing. If he was not just… making a fool of himself, hurting both of them and grinding, oh so slowly, their friendship into nothing more than dust.

He found Yuri alone, sat in some emergency stairs of the backstage of the Olympic Ice Arena, headphones on as he seemed to be meditating before his final Free Skate. Otabek watched him from above, detailing all the micromovements of his breathing, of his apparently stoic expression, of his concentrated soul, and he wondered, again, if giving up and letting Yuri go would be the wisest decision. It would hurt, and he would feel miserable, but… Yuri wouldn't be suffering anymore, right? So maybe… maybe that's how it should be?

Otabek cursed in a whisper without being able to look away from the seemingly peaceful man on the level below. Grabbing his phone, Otabek wrote him a good luck message. Like he had done for the Europeans in January and on the day of their Short Program, since Yuri was not letting him get close. The message was simple like his messages always were: a small tease about their competition, a mention to the gold medal and a truthful  _ I love you, Yura. _

He put his phone back in his pocket and was about to leave Yuri alone when he noticed that Yuri had opened his eyes and was taking his own phone out of his jacket. Otabek didn't know what to expect, and he certainly didn't expect more than the stoic look on Yuri's face to remain still and emotionless.

But Yuri unlocked his phone and opened the message and a warm and pure and real smile spread over his lips, and Otabek had to grab onto the handrail with both hands for he was suddenly dizzy and breathless. Yuri pulled one knee up and leant his elbow on it, hand pulling back the longer fringe that kept falling over his eyes, smile never leaving, never waving, never losing its immense warmth.

And for the very first time in over two long and painful and silent months, Yuri replied.

_ Make sure you watch me _ , he said.

»------------«

Otabek heard the rumour that Yuri had a brand new Free Skate routine prepared for the Winter Olympics. People commented about it, some called Yuri crazy, others said it was a bold move. Truth to be told, a brand new routine for the Olympics was one of the riskiest things Yuri had ever done. But he was Yuri Plisetsky, the Ice King, and he could give himself the luxury of a new routine just for the Olympics if he wanted to.

Otabek was still processing his score - that guaranteed him a medal - when Yuri stood by the entrance of the rink, right next to the kiss and cry, and looked at him. The announcer called Yuri's name, and the arena roared with emotion, an intense frenzy echoing loudly in Otabek's ears, and the look they shared turned into a very subtle and delicate smile over Yuri's lips before the ice had its king again.

The music started, and Otabek recognised the gentle accords, melody coming to his mind along with a memory of a conversation about past and future, other lives and believes, eternity, love, and soul mates. And Yuri took the ice with emotion and devotion, and it was so painfully beautiful, Otabek couldn't breathe.

Years before, Yuri had mesmerised the world with a performance of Agape that spoke volumes and melted people's hearts. After being crowned king and having the world at his feet, Yuri had returned to skate about love in a much more peculiar way. It wasn't an innocent child's interpretation of unconditional love for the ones around him anymore. No. It was strength and power in the delicacy of butterfly wings, explosions and fireworks in classical ballet and mind-blowing screams shouted in absolute silence.

It was the smell of the wet dirt that came with the first rains along with the memory of laughter and kisses and mud wrestling. The full moon that painted the night sky pitch black and listened to secrets and confessions and promises. The taste of coffee in the early morning, taken from the other's lips and warms hands and naked skins. It was the late phone calls and the long voice messages and all the selfies replacing far away touches. It was all the hotel rooms and all the bed sheets and all the hidden bathroom stalls. All the tearful goodbyes with trembling hands and clenching hearts at international airports. All the intense looks of welcome and the desperate kisses of longing. It was all their promises of future and their compromises of the past.

It was all the lines that crossed Otabek’s skin being cut sharply into the ice, marking their history, claiming their existence. It was all the tears and all the pain and all the despair. And it was all the smiles and all the laughs and all their happiness. It was deep as the oceans and pure as falling snow. Breathtaking and heartbreaking and absolutely overwhelming.

It was them.

And Yuri was crying when the music finished, and the whole arena cried along with him, astonished and dazzled, with amazement painting expressions on everyone's faces. Otabek barely registered his coach's voice when he stormed out of the kiss and cry and tore the blade protections out of his skates before jumping to the ice rink and making his way to meet Yuri at the centre. He didn't hear the loud exclamations around them or the shouts of his coach, telling him to come back. He didn't hear the cheers or the chants or the emotional screams from the thousands of people watching.

He stopped harshly in the middle of the rink, right in front of Yuri, widened eyes so full of hope watching silently as that ridiculous and obnoxious Russian punk pulled his fringe away from his eyes and finally - finally! - looked at him, a full constellation of dreams shining bright in his eyes. Trembling, gasping and oh so vulnerable, Yuri bit his lip, took a deep breath, and voiced his entire routine in those three little words.

“I love you,” he murmured, and the uncertain smile spreading on his lips was met with an urgent and so much needed kiss.

Hands cupped jaws and bodies pressed closer as the kiss turned into a second and a third before they were hugging tightly and sobbing and hiding their faces into the other's neck while ignoring the roar of the thousands of people watching them. Otabek was sure the announcer was calling them, Yuri's score was about to be shown, both their coaches were screaming their lungs out, countless photographers flashed their cameras at them, and the cheers and shouts around them tumbled with a full array of the most diverse emotions. But he couldn't care less about all that.

He had Yuri back.

Body and soul, quite, and wholeheartedly.

_ He had Yuri back! _

So nothing else mattered.

»------------«

"You know," Otabek said, kissing the nape of Yuri's neck languidly, as his exhausted body laid on top of his lover's. "I'm not gonna get used to seeing you with short hair."

"You're just upset you can't pull it any more," Yuri purred, left hand reaching back to ran blunt nails through Otabek's scalp, getting a low groan with it. "It will grow, don't worry. You'll have all the time in the world to pull it again."

"You might not believe it, but not everything I like about you has to do with sex," Otabek protested, and Yuri laughed, that warm and carefree and contagious laugh that was so rare and private Otabek felt honoured to witness again. "You look gorgeous with short hair anyway. I almost fainted when I saw you in Paris, so fucking gorgeous," he hummed, nuzzling the shell of Yuri's ear, kissing the side of his neck. "I'm just saying that long hair is more…"

"Erotic," Yuri completed, and Otabek protested again, getting another loud laugh. "Well, I cut it on a whim. I'm letting it grow again."

“That makes me very happy,” Otabek murmured at Yuri’s ear, nibbling the earlobe. “Very happy!”

"I can feel it, you're still in me and getting very happy about it indeed," Yuri chuckled, before turning his head to steal a kiss from his lover, whining softly when Otabek carefully slid out of him. "You could have stayed in and gone for another round, you know?"

"Or we can rest for half an hour instead of compensating the whole last year in a day?" he suggested, and Yuri kissed him again, before stretching his arm to the bedside table to reach for his phone. "That's not a good idea."

“We can’t ignore the world forever,” Yuri pointed and turned his phone on, the overwhelming number of emails, messages, unreached calls and some other alerts making Otabek grimace. “Ok, so… Yakov wants to kill you.”

“Damnit, not him too,” Otabek cliqued his tongue and leant his chin on Yuri’s shoulder, watching him navigate through his messages and emails, his chest tightly pressed against the younger’s back.

"Mila says she knew it, Viktor is an asshole, but Katsudon says congrats," Yuri enumerated, sounding amused. "Phitchit got a selfie with us kissing on the ice… how?! Just, seriously, how?"

"Phichit is inhuman when it comes to the power of taking selfies. He made Seung-gil like taking selfies and posting them himself! That guy is dangerous!" Otabek joked, and Yuri shook his head. "The overall media? And our fans?"

“Media is going from  _ True Love On Ice _ to  _ Recklessness With Hormones Running High _ , what the fuck?" Yuri exclaimed, and Otabek chuckled. It wasn't that terrible, was it? "Your Amazons are… celebrating that you  _ ‘tamed the Tiger’ _ , seriously, Beka?”

“You’re the one calling yourself the Ice Tiger of Russia, don’t blame it on the Amazons!” Otabek laughed, rolling to the side and laying on his back, left arm sliding under Yuri’s chest and pulling their bodies closer. “The Angels?”

“Half of them are happy, the other half are… upset that it’s not JJ? What?” Yuri growled, glaring at his phone like it had personally insulted him and Otabek laughed again. “What the fuck does this mean?”

"Well, you know Phichit takes any chance he gets to make the Angels and JJ's Girls face off in bets and other silly stuff, right?" he asked and got a questioning eyebrow as response. "He does and that kind of created some odd mood between them and… some of the fans deeply believe your rivalry with JJ is unresolved sexual tension."

"WHAT?" Yuri screeched, and Otabek pressed forward, kissing him quickly.

“Isabella told me about it, I had no clue either,” he said, using his free hand to pull Yuri’s fringe out of his face. “Anyway, all of that doesn’t sound terrible. Anything else?”

"A few others, but fuck it," Yuri answered, dropping his phone over the pillow he was hugging and looking at his lover. "It's getting late. We need to get going to the exhibition gala."

“Oh no,” Otabek complained, hiding his face on a pillow. “Going out means reporters and photographers! We stay here!”

"Well, now that everyone knows why we suddenly ‘get sick' before the galas - together! - I don't think it's wise to miss this one," Yuri pointed, and Otabek glared at him. Since when was Yuri the mature, responsible one? "And if it's the reporters that you're worried about, we kinda kissed on the ice, during Olympic finals, streaming live to the whole world, so… it can't get worse?"

“Well… yes, but… they’re gonna ask questions, and they will want to know more and all the gossip and- Arg! Nightmare!” Otabek hissed, closing his eyes tightly. “And I bet there will be terrible rumours also.”

"Well, I know how we could solve that," Yuri said, purring and placing a kiss on Otabek's mouth. Otabek pulled Yuri on top of him, kissing him slowly, letting his hand get lost on the silk threads of short hair and marvelling on yuri's taste. They parted, breathing hard and heavy, and Otabek brushed his lips over Yuri's jaw, before latching at his neck, biting him gently and-

There was a flash and the shutter sound of Yuri’s phone.

“What are you doing?” Otabek groaned, opening his eyes to see Yuri playing around with his phone. “Yura-”

“Controlling the gossip,” he said, simply, grabbing the phone with both hands.

“What?” Otabek turned around enough to stare at his lover with widened eyes.

“So, _ All Gold is Mine _ and hashtag boyfriends, hashtag dating-”

“You didn’t ask me if I wanted to date you again!” Otabek stated, being ignored.

“Hashtag anniversary-”

“Our Anniversary is in March!”

“Hashtag four years together-”

“You broke up with me last April!”

“Hashtag Otabek is gonna ride me like a cowboy bab-”

“YURA!” Otabek turned them around, reaching for Yuri’s phone as Yuri’s loud and gorgeous laugh echoed around them and filled the room. He dropped the phone back on a pillow and let Otabek kiss the breath out of him, straddling his hips, pinning both of his wrists into the mattress. “Otabek is gonna teach you how not to behave like a punk and put private photos on the damn internet!”

“By riding the fuck out of me?” Yuri grinned, taking another heated kiss.

“Yes!” Otabek declared, kissing him again and rocking their hips together, Yuri’s phone long forgotten somewhere in between the pillows.

The photo he had taken, with Otabek biting his bruised neck and wild blue-green eyes glaring at the camera, would find its way to Instagram hours later, letting the world know where they stood with each other.

[ **yuri-plisetsky** All Gold is Mine @otabek-altin #boyfriends #dating #anniversary #4yearstogether #committedRelationship #mylove] 

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ Saint Petersburg, 2nd April 2022 _ _   
_ **World Championship**

“Yuri told me you’re retiring from competition,” Lilia said, sounding as casual as possible when she approached Otabek during the Banquet after World Championship ended. She kept her perfect posture and her chin high as she looked at him with rigid eyes that cared too much.

“Yes, that is correct,” Otabek nodded, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ve done everything I could, competed in all major events and got more silver than everyone has ever had, so… I believe it’s time to step down before my body forces me to.”

“Knee problems?” Lilia asked in the same cold, casual tone, but Otabek could tell she was interested, maybe even worried a bit? “I’ve noticed that a couple of your landings, in practice, were a bit off.”

“Well, it’s not knee problems yet, but it will become serious if I keep the competition pace,” Otabek explained, sipping his champagne glass. “So I’m retiring to avoid further complications.”

"Do you already have plans for the future?" Lilia questioned, simply, attentive eyes observing Otabek's expressions carefully. "A skater of your level certainly has interesting offers."

“Well, the information hasn’t been out for too long yet, but I have a couple of offers, indeed,” Otabek replied, wondering where that conversation would lead them. Lilia had been more receptive to his and Yuri’s relationship than she was before. Otabek never blamed her for the harsh words she directed at Yuri, three years earlier. She loved that obnoxious punk too much, and she was only caring for him even if it had been in an unusually strict way. But she had softened around them, and Otabek knew that, soul-mark or not, she approved of their relationship. "There's a couple of skaters that asked me to train them and one ice show that reached out an invitation, but it's still too early to be making decisions."

"Yuri also told me that you're a certified physiotherapist, specialised in sports medicine, no?" she inquired, and Otabek nodded, honestly confused. "Pursuing that career is not an option for you?"

"I honestly don't know," Otabek said, truthful. "I want to keep involved in ice skating, that's for sure. Taking a skater to train would mean keep travelling around as well, but… I really don't know. I might join a clinic in Almaty."

"Yakov is looking for someone to coach his younger skaters," Lilia said, suddenly, not an octave of change in her voice and Otabek was surprised. He hadn't heard anything from Yuri. "He's old and tired, and your boyfriend's dramatics are making him lose the rest of his hair and what lasts of his mind. So he's looking for someone to take over the work he has been doing for his entire life and keep producing Russian prodigies."

“Wouldn’t Viktor be the one doing that?” Otabek asked, curious and oh so lost on that conversation. Lilia grimaced.

"Viktor has nothing in that brain of his and spends more time crushing over his own husband than actually coaching anyone, so no. Yuri still has a few good years as a competitor ahead of him and, truth be told, I'm sorry for the poor souls that, one day, will have Yuri Plisetsky as their coach!" Lilia stated, and Otabek covered his mouth in order not to laugh. Lilia was absolutely on point. "Anyway, there are younger skaters to be trained and a part-time sports physiotherapist position open here in Saint Petersburg and, as much as Yavok yells and screams and twists, they're yours, if you want them."

"Lilia, I… I don't understand," Otabek said, confused and uncertain, and Lilia sighed and looked away, to the saloon where the Banquet was happening, to the mass of people cheering and talking and smiling. Otabek didn't have to follow her gaze to know her eyes were focused on Yuri, who stood at the other side of the room and whispering with Mila.

"You're good for him," she muttered, eyes never leaving a smirking Yuri and Otabek felt a light blush caressing his cheeks. "Your relationship won't be easy without a match. There will always be some people that will be hideous and nasty. There will be bureaucratic complications later on, and you won't be able to get married. Not in Russia, at least. But…" Lilia paused for a moment, her eyes returning to look directly at Otabek, like piercing his soul. "You make him happy, you make him a better version of himself and I want nothing more but to see him smile."

“Lilia…” Otabek started, unsure of what exactly to say, but Lilia shook her head and raised a thin hand.

"You have a job and a place to live in this city if you want. A job that will let you do what you studied and that will also turn you into a coach, following Yakov's steps," she declared, voice returning to the same neutral tone as before, but a delicate smile tugging at her lips. "It's a strong and reasonable reason for you to move to Russia, I would say."

“Does Yuri…”

"Know?" Lilia finished the sentence for him, smiling. "No. He doesn't. He has been too worried that you're not going to be on the ice with him anymore to actually think of this possibility." She tilted her head to the side and looked at the swirling wine in her glass. "Do your thinking, Otabek Altin. Figure out what you want, be free to do whatever comes to your mind and, if what you want happens to coincide with the job offer I just made, let me know," she smiled again, thin hand touching Otabek's arm delicately. "You'll be most welcome."

»»-------------¤-------------««

Yuri was waiting for him at the airport when Otabek returned to Saint Petersburg, four months later, with two heavy suitcases behind him and a nervous weight on his stomach. Yuri's hair had grown a bit, and it was starting to resemble the cut he had when they met in Barcelona, all those years before. Otabek smiled into their kiss and let his fingers run through the silky blond locks, enjoying the feeling of Yuri's long hair once more.

He stayed at Yuri's apartment for the first few days - like he had done so many times before - and Yuri put up a fight when Lilia told them about a small room in an old inn close to the rink. It would not be a definitive situation, but Otabek could stay there comfortably without being cramped at Yuri's place and having his own space. Yuri didn't see any problem with his tiny apartment, but Otabek had the wisdom of knowing that a week on the same schedule is very different than months with distinct daily routines.

A week after arriving, getting himself installed on his new room, and setting his pace for this fresh start, Otabek joined Yakov on the rink as a fellow coach. He had a class of five young kids twice a week in the mornings, a class of pre-teens on the other three mornings, two juniors with a lot of potential in the afternoons, and he would take an hour at the end of the day for any necessary physiotherapy sessions. Along with it, Mila quickly dragged him around to a few bars and pubs, and it didn't take him long to find a place where he could DJ once or twice a month. On top of all that, there was Yuri.

Yuri who would sneak onto the rink for a quick kiss before his ballet classes in the morning, who would drag him out for lunch, who would flirt around with him in the afternoon on the rink - and get Yakov absolutely mad about it because  _ ‘For fucks sake, Yuri Plisetsky, you’re not Viktor! Leave your boyfriend alone for two hours, will you?’ _ \- and who would go home with him, or invite him over for dinner. And like all of that hadn't been more than Otabek thought possible, there was sex. There was lots of sex, in the mornings and at the end of the day, sometimes during lunchtime, or a quicky in a bathroom stall because they got horny and because they could. There were weekends spent in bed, motorcycle trips to the countryside and long nights spent in clubs.

And like it had been a blink of an eye, the new competition season had started, and Yuri was winning medals around the globe again. It felt foreign for Otabek to not be around on that first year. Sure he travelled with Yuri for the Grand Prix Final and for the World Championship, but he wasn't  _ there _ , on the ice, with him like he had always been. It was odd and not something he could adapt to overnight. Yuri too missed him on the ice, he had grown so comfortable of their rivalry, that not having Otabek around felt strange.

Slowly, taking a step at a time, and matching paces, they made their way into new lives and new routines and new realities. Slowly, one step at a time, and together.

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ Saint Petersburg, 19th May 2023 _

"It took you a full year to find an apartment?" Yuri teased, smirk flawlessly in place as Otabek parked his motorcycle in front of a baroque style building, facing a canal, in the city centre. "I thought you had given up months ago."

"Well, I don't plan on living in a tiny room for the rest of my life, you know?" Otabek said, bumping their shoulders together before pulling Yuri with him to enter the building of his new apartment. "And it didn't take me a year to find an apartment, it took me a year to find  _ this _ apartment.”

“Which I still don’t get, you were never picky with places to stay,” Yuri pointed as they crossed the hall with tall ceilings and entered an elevator that took them to the 6th floor. Yuri was looking around, pretending not to be impressed by the classic architecture and decor of the place. “Besides, you could have found something closer to my place.”

"This is closer to the ice rink than your place is," Otabek said, lightly, as he took his keys off and walked to a large door of dark wood, beautifully carved and recently restored. "Anyway, this is an older building, but the location is very good, the view is pretty amazing, and the price was great for what it is, so I'm quite happy with it."

“Does it have enough space for a double bed at least?” Yuri asked, teasing again, and Otabek gave him a sharp look before opening the door and gestured for him to enter.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” he suggested and Yuri walked past him, to the empty apartment that smelled of fresh varnish and wood. Otabek followed him inside and closed the door behind them. “I hope you like it.”

"It's bigger than your current place, of course, I… like…" Otabek couldn't really help a traitorous smile when Yuri started to look around, mesmerised. The apartment wasn't too big, it had the main bedroom suite, a large living room, a functional kitchen, a balcony and an extra guest bathroom, all very well positioned, making the whole place feel large and, at the same time, cosy. Wooden, polished floor, contrasted with bright white walls that rose tall to high ceilings, decorated with delicate and straightforward mouldings. The windows covered most of the walls, making the place incredibly bright and giving space to a balcony with a view over the canal. There was a fireplace in the living room and a large bathtub in the suite's private bathroom. There was no furniture in yet, but that didn't soften the impact of how perfect that apartment was. Yuri turned to him, wide eyes and surprise written all over his face. "Beka!"

"I told you it was pretty awesome!" Otabek smiled, and Yuri gave him a tiny punch on his shoulder. "So I take that you like it?"

"I like it?" Yuri parroted, almost insulted with the inaccuracy of it. "It's fucking perfect! It has everything, and it's big, and there's so much space, but it still feels cosy!" Yuri stood by the massive window, looking outside, and could only smile when Otabek slid his arms around his waist, hugging him from behind. "How am I supposed to go back to my tiny studio when you got yourself a place like this?"

“You’re not, you’re supposed to stay here with me,” Otabek said, kissing the juncture of Yuri’s neck with his shoulder. “I mean, we still need to get furniture, but we can move in as soon as we have a bed and a fridge.”

“What are you talking about?” Yuri asked, turning his face to look at his lover. Otabek smiled, the simple and warm, reassuring smile he kept specially for Yuri, and tightened the embrace of his arms around Yuri’s waist.

“I’m talking about both of us moving in here, not just me,” he said, kissing Yuri’s shoulder again before letting him turn around in his arms. Yuri’s hands were holding his arms carefully, confused and surprised expression taking his voice away for a brief moment, giving Otabek the perfect opportunity to steal a quick kiss. “Potya will love it. There’s lots of space for her to run around like the lunatic old cat that she is.”

“You want to live together,” Yuri muttered, hands clenching around the collar of Otabek’s jacket and the corners of his mouth pulling up oh so slowly. “Beka!”

“I want all of you and everything we have the right to have,” he declared, pushing his body against Yuri, closing their embrace and nuzzling his nose. “Russian law might not allow me to legally marry you, but I’ll have everything else.”

“You could have started with a pair of rings, you know?” Yuri laughed, kissing him again and again.

“Who do you think I am? Katsuki?” Otabek joked, shaking his head and stealing one more kiss. “I didn’t get you a ring, I got you a home!”

“And a perfect one, that is,” Yuri purred, hugging him tightly. “A perfect home.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

Potya loved the new place, just like Otabek predicted. And so did Yuri. They moved in by the end of May and spent more time in the house than out, enjoying the spring. The furniture was being bought little by little, decoration coming in slowly as well and, by the end of that fall, their home was personal and cosy and absolutely perfect.

Lilia and Yavok were impressed when they joined them for dinner one night. Viktor immediately wanted to be invited there too, and Katsuki had to apologise for his silly husband a couple of times before Viktor stopped whining. They visited them on their next trip to Russia, in the following Winter, and Otabek didn't see a problem in throwing a small dinner for friends and also invite Mila and Georgi. Yuri's grandfather made him nervous when he came to spend the weekend, but Otabek could breathe out in relief when Nikolai gave him a firm handshake along with a smile of approval. 

Another competition season started in the meantime and Yuri was, again, travelling around, winning more gold medals to add to his collection. Otabek had to admit that it was terribly satisfying to wake up to Yuri every day and go to sleep with him every night without having to decide which place they would sleep or if there was time to go back home and change clothes before practice in the next morning.

There were always some bad days as well. Yuri had kept the fact that he was markless very well hidden, but there were rumours and nosy people with sharp opinions that liked to ruin someone's day. Otabek learnt really quickly on how to ignore them, but Yuri was still getting pissed and angry about it. Otabek knew that it was not really the fact that they were matchless, but more the constant reminder that Otabek soul-mark hadn't been matched yet and his soul mate was still somewhere. That really bothered Yuri. So he made a special secret mission on those days: to tell Yuri how much he loved him time and time again.

After the World Championship of that season, Otabek's grandma came to visit them. She knew about Yuri since the very beginning and had heard countless stories about the Ice King, but it was the first time that she and Yuri met personally. Otabek's grandma was an old and wise woman of few words and profound perceptions. Otabek knew she would love Yuri very much, but it wasn't until her last night with them, when he entered his living room to find his grandma braiding Yuri's long hair, while explaining to him the method she was using, that Otabek felt truly blessed with his family.

The end of spring brought Isabella and JJ along and, as much as Yuri kept complaining about JJ’s antics, the two of them actually got along much better than one could have first though. Isabella made a small comment about not letting a photo of the two of them, with arms around each other as they sang their souls out in a concert, find its way to the internet or half of the fans that still believe that  _ Pliroy _ could be a thing would go completely crazy over it. Otabek laughed at the idea and, instead, let a photo of the four of them, partying in a local club and with the hashtag friends, make all their fans go crazy.

Axel, Lutz and Loop visited during the summer, making a huge fuss at the airport, yelling their names and running to jump and hug them tightly. They were high school students by then, tall and a bit chubby like their father, and their obsession with ice skating hadn't changed a bit. And it really didn't matter how many times Yuri would tell them to stop being skater otakus and stop publishing their every move on all possible social media channels, that week had been full of Instagram hits and youtube videos.

[ **sukeota3sisters** @yuri-plisetsky’s morning flexibility routine! Perfect husband, @otabek-altin, is making breakfast <3 #YuriTraining #relationshipGoals #morningRoutine #marriedLife #IceKing #skating]

And, little by little, life walked on and the years passed.

»»-------------¤-------------««

_ Saint Petersburg, 7th November 2026 _

"Do you want some tea?" Yuri asked, sitting on the sofa where they spent the entire afternoon on, pulling the blanket out of himself and getting up. Otabek nodded, kissing Yuri's hand before letting him go, watching as the once again long and loose hair waved gently behind him.

Yuri had just returned from Cup of China, where he - without surprised - won the tournament smoothly. Yuri had been saying that he might retire from competition after that season, but Otabek knew he was just starting to think about it, so it would take him at least another season or two to actually doing it.

All of the skaters that were in competition when Yuri had his senior debut had already retired. Some became coaches, others toured the world with ice shows - ( _ “No, Phichit, I didn’t change my mind about joining your hamster show in Thailand.” _ ) - a few had left the ice skating world for good and dedicated themselves to something else. Some got married, some had kids, some had more dogs than they could count for - ( _ “Viktor, did you open a poodle sanctuary or something?” _ ) - and some spent their time travelling around. Yuri was the very last one standing, in the competition world. And, as much as he was talking about retirement and Yakov had been yelling at him that he was too old for Yuri’s shit, Otabek knew there were still a couple of seasons to go.

Potya meowed and jumped out of the sofa, leaving to go after Yuri, when Otabek moved to sit down as well. He stretched, prepared the next episode of the TV drama that they had been watching and stood up, ready to join Yuri in the kitchen. 

“Potya, no!” The loud exclamation came followed by a painful scream and the sound of something metallic falling, and Otabek found himself running to the kitchen in the next heartbeat.

“Are you ok?” he asked, worried, entering the kitchen to find Potya sitting on the counter in front of him and Yuri with the sink tap open and his left hand under cold water. The kettle was on the floor, behind Yuri, water splashed around. “Yura!”

"I'm fine, just this crazy-ass cat is trying to kill herself!" he hissed, glaring at the cat that stood in the counter in between them like she had nothing to do with the whole situation. "She is old and can't jump well anymore, but you think she'll stay still on the floor not to get hurt? Of course not!" Potya opted to meow languidly in reply. "Don't you  _ nya _ me, Potya Plisetskaya-Altin! You could have burnt yourself.”

“Is your hand ok?” Otabek questioned, trying not to laugh at the way Yuri was glaring at their cat while Potya was simply being herself and ignoring him. He stepped forward, caressing the top of Potya’s head while worried eyes followed his lover’s moves. Yuri turned off the tap and grabbed a cloth to dry his hand, hissing a bit with the contact. He looked at the skin at the top of his hand and frowned.

"Yeah, it's just red. The water wasn't too hot, so it's fine," he said, glaring at Potya again, who was licking a paw distractedly. Yuri cursed and stepped closer to the cat, clicking his fingers in front of her nose to make her look at him, before opening his hand and showing his palm to her. "See what you did to me? My hand is burnt, and this could have been your head if you don't stop being silly and misc-" 

Otabek didn't hear anything else. His eyes were wide and astonished, fixed on Yuri's hand that was still open and facing Potya while the younger man ranted about safety and missed jumps. Otabek stomach imploded in butterflies like it hadn't happened in years and his heart burst out of his chest, loud and chaotic, and all Otabek could do was throw his arms around Yuri and pull him in in a crushing hug. He ignored Yuri's surprised exclamation and buried his face in his lover's neck, strong arms pulling him as close as it was humanly possible and trembling fingers twisting in the fabric of Yuri's sweater.

“Beka?” Yuri tried, confused by the sudden reaction, uncertain. “Beka, what-”

"Your hand!" Otabek was able to say before his throat closed and he choked a sob.

“It’s… red, but I’m fin-”

“Your palm,” Otabek breathed, afraid that he would fall if he stepped away from Yuri. “Look at your palm.”

"Beka, I don't-" the gasp was loud, and Yuri's right hand was instantly on Otabek's back, grabbing his sweater as if life depended on it and Otabek could feel the jump of Yuri's heart and the erratic beat that followed. Yuri cursed, shaking his head, and Otabek felt the warm tears falling from Yuri's face to his neck.

He swallowed hard, trying not to scream or to punch something or simply lose his mind because what were the damn bloody chances?

"It is- your… isn't it?" he asked, fear striking him hard and he was shivering and sobbing, and he wasn't ready for that! He barely registered the ghostly  _ yes _ that Yuri muttered as a reply and his arms tightened around his lover. “I didn’t- see all- Does… does it-? Are we-? Can we-?”

Otabek cursed and closed his eyes, burying his face harder in yuri's neck. He was a nervous wreck, and nothing could have prepared him for that. They had a good life. No, scratch that, they have a freaking remarkable life. They had made their way through all their problems, through prejudice, through strict laws and horrible people, and they had a wonderful life together. They had made their way, fought their battles, and won their war against a society controlled by marks on a person's skin and they had said  _ fuck soul mates! Who needs them when one has the love of their life? _ They had stood at so many cusps and so many dilemmas and so much pain, and they had always come up as winners, and Otabek thought that their battles had been all long past, and there was nothing else to worry about.

They didn’t need the intensity and the fear and the excruciating pain of doubt waving over them once again, especially without the warning of the 21st birthday mark. And yet there it was, taking their breath away and making their hearts ache and creating a full anxious atmosphere that none of them wanted or even needed. They had done it once, right before Yuri had turned 21. They had been prepared, they had been ready. They weren’t anymore. They had no warning, no preparation, not even a small hint. And if once they had not much to lose, at that moment Otabek wasn’t sure they would survive a fall that high.

Soul-marks cannot be burnt, cut or tattooed over. So when the hot water made the palm of Yuri’s hand red, his soul-mark remained unchangeable: pale, like glowing gently against the red of the slightly burnt skin, visible for the very first time.

“Otabek.”

He felt Yuri’s left hand, trembling and warm - so, so warm - caress the side of his face and, slowly, as if moving too fast would break them, he pulled back, only enough to look directly at Yuri’s eyes. And there was a whirl of emotions and feelings reflected on his irises and tears running down his cheeks and short gasps escaping parted lips. And then, there was a smile in between tears and galaxies shining bright behind blue-green eyes and the shiver that ran down Otabek’s spine was far from being a cold one. And,  _ damn. _

_ Yuri was breathtaking! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My heart is full and my soul is warm.
> 
> Thank you for reading. Leave me a word if this made you feel anything at all <3
> 
> You can find me on twitter @emcAkira
> 
> Originals will follow!


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